Once More With Feeling (Potterlock)
by SailorXStar
Summary: The selfish part of him wanted to beg Sherlock to come with him, come live with him. But he knew that it would never happen. Sherlock knew nothing of the Muggle world, and why would he leave his whole life just for him anyway? It was just a silly dream...
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone out there! Yes, I am still alive. We go through this every time that I post something new, don't we? XD Well, to be honest, I've really turned my fanfiction posting over to deviantART, mostly because of all the Johnlock stories I've been doing, so I kind of forget about this place sometimes :( But the good news is that now I have this story! This is a story that I wrote out of an RP, much like IOU Much More but with a lot more editing and changes. And I've already posted it to deviantART but I wanted to share it here too since I know there are tons of people on this site that would enjoy it.

As for other stories...Well, everything is on the backburner right now. I have so many other active ideas at the moment, and things that I've promised to do for my other audience that I have simply not had time to think about anything relating to old ideas that I've wanted to finish. That doesn't mean they'll never happen! But it might be a very long time before they do...I hope you guys don't hate me for that T_T

Anyway, I absolutely love this story, and I hope that you all will too. It's sort of a two arc story, the first arc taking place during Sherlock and John's time at school and the second after they graduate. It turns from a Potterlock story into a very deep Johnlock story, and I hope that you enjoy it. I've already got all 12 chapters completely edited and ready to post, so I'll be updating promptly every Monday.

And I think that's it! Follow me at sxs-fanfics on tumblr to get updates when new chapters are posted, and you can also see things about my other stories on dA (and lots of Johnlock fanart that I've reblogged, lol). Please read and review and love this story, and I'll see you next Monday! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

Sherlock settled himself into an empty compartment towards the back of the Hogwarts Express, opening this year's Potions textbook. His cat, sleek black with bright amber eyes, was curled in his lap. Absently stroking him, he ignored Mycroft waving to him from outside the window as the train started off. Soon they were past the platform and out in the open.

This was the sixth year in a row that Sherlock found himself sitting alone on the journey to school. And it would be the sixth year in a row that he found himself sitting alone in all his classes. And in the Great Hall. And the common room. In general, Sherlock tended to spend his time alone, only ever accompanied by Yorick (the cat) and his thoughts. It wasn't exactly an undesirable existence, but sometimes it was inconvenient. If merely for the fact that in spite of his loneliness, he still garnered attention. Usually in the form of taunts and stares and whispered criticisms. But he only had two years to go at this point. Nothing that he couldn't handle.

Just then there was a knock on the door of his compartment. A short blonde in Gryffindor robes was standing outside. "Do you mind if I sit in here?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full." Sherlock looked at him out of the corner of his eye before shrugging and motioning him in. He recognised him from a shared Charms class between the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in second year, but didn't remember his name.

"Thank you," the boy said, settling down on the bench across from Sherlock. "I couldn't find a compartment that wasn't full." Sherlock didn't say anything, and an awkward pause ensued, until the boy decided to speak again. "I'm John Watson."

Ah, yes, now Sherlock knew who he was. John Watson, sixth year Gryffindor, keeper for the Quidditch team, relatively popular, friendly to everyone regardless of their house. Well, he was sure that wouldn't apply to him too, but he couldn't be rude and not introduce himself. "Sherlock Holmes," he said softly, waiting for the reaction that he got from everyone else.

But to his surprise, John held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sherlock," he said with a smile.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow, but shook his hand nonetheless. "Likewise." His cat leaned up to sniff John's arm as it was stretched over before rubbing it's head against his wrist.

"Why hello there." John smiled and turned his hand, scratching just behind the cat's ears. Yes, he knew Sherlock's reputation. Ravenclaw sixth year, general loner, haughty and egotistical, thought by some to be involved in Dark Arts, or just crazy in general. But John didn't allow preconceived notions to rule his mind when it came to meeting new people. Sometimes, you just had to dig a little deeper.

"Interesting. Yorick doesn't always take well to new people," Sherlock said, watching the cat interacting with John. So the rumors were true, it seemed, that John was easily liked by everyone. A twitch of a smile played on his lips. He'd soon see just how far the Gryffindor's nice streak went. "Muggleborn, eh?"

"I am," John said looking up at Sherlock, "And does that bother you?"

"No, just pointing out what I saw," he said with a shrug.

John nodded, and Sherlock was surprised that he didn't ask how he knew. But before he could say anything Yorick jumped across the small aisle to settle in John's lap. The other boy blinked and looked at Sherlock. "Does he do that often?"

"No. It's best to leave him where he decides to sit, though. Hope you don't mind." Sherlock wondered what about this John Watson had Yorick acting this way. Usually with strangers he was either indifferent or dangerous.

"Sounds like most cats I've come across." John chuckled softly. He smiled at Sherlock. Everything about him was calm, relaxed, content. There was this calm that just seemed to exude from John. It was actually quite nice, if he was to be honest.

In fact, Sherlock felt his urge to try to mess with John start to disappear. This other boy confused him. He didn't act the same as the other students he had encountered. Then again, that might just be because they were interacting with Sherlock, who usually deduced the last person they'd snogged with and then got punched in the face. It was only a matter of time before John did the same.

Another silence ensued, this one a little more comfortable. John looked out the window of their compartment watching the scenery go with a small smile on his face. He then looked over to Sherlock again. "What classes are you taking this year?"

Sherlock really hadn't expected them to keep talking. He'd never been a great conversationalist- he'd never had anyone to talk to- and he was sure that John would soon deem him a freak and leave like anyone else. But for the time being, he supposed he would be polite and play along. "N.E.W.T. level for Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Defense," he said and ticked them off on his fingers.

"N.E.W.T level Potions, Defense, Herbology, History of Magic and Charms," John replied, not even waiting for Sherlock's question. Sherlock probably wouldn't have asked it anyway.

"We'll have three classes together then, it seems." Not that it really mattered that much to Sherlock. Or did it? He supposed he should try to find out. After all, it had been about ten minutes since John came in, and he was still sitting here and in good humour, so perhaps this was his one and only chance. He swept his eyes over him once and said, "You were running late this morning."

John smiled. "I was running just a bit late this morning. How did you know?"

Sherlock let his lips twitch up at one side. Here it goes. "You didn't finish combing your hair all the way and there's a bit of jam staining your finger where you grabbed the toast that your mother already made for you as you ran out the door. Not to mention that most everyone else had already boarded by the time you arrived, otherwise you would have easily found a seat, popular bloke like yourself. All that and the fact that your jumper is on backwards." Sherlock smirked, awaiting his reaction. This would determine just how nice Mr. John Watson truly was.

John looked down, pulling out the collar of his jumper to discover that it was indeed backwards. Then he looked at his fingers, and then looked up, trying to smooth out his hair. Finally, he looked back at Sherlock and his face broke into a smile. "That was fantastic!"

That was certainly not the response that Sherlock expected and his eyebrows shot up into his fringe. "Well," he said, unsure how he should reply. "Um...Thank you. That's not what people usually say."

"What do they normally say?" John asked. He leaned his head to once side, studying Sherlock. He actually looked genuinely confused, as if he had no idea what anyone else could possibly say about what he'd just witnessed.

So Sherlock decided to enlighten him. "Piss off," he said with a grin.

That got John to start laughing. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

Sherlock found himself laughing a little as well. He hadn't laughed in quite a while, and John's loud, almost jolly laughter was contagious. It felt refreshing. Heartening. Finally, the ice had broken between them.

After a few moments, John let his laughter fade and he relaxed back against the seat. "We had Charms together in second year," he said. "I remember when you told the Professor that she was all wrong."

"It wasn't my fault that she didn't know the proper wand movement," Sherlock said, remembering that day. "The only reason she gave me a detention for it was because she was still sore over Professor Lockhart rejecting her advances." He snorted out through his nose.

John laughed again. "You're absolutely brilliant." As far as Sherlock could tell, because he was quite adept with that sort of thing, John wasn't lying.

Sherlock smiled and said, "You're doing that out loud, you know. Though it's fine, please continue." This was the nicest anyone had ever treated him before and frankly he found himself warming up to it.

"I know I am. And it's the truth," John stated. "I think you're brilliant." He still had a huge grin on his face.

"Thank you," Sherlock said. This was strange, unexpected, and he wasn't sure what was going to happen. Were they going to become friends? Or would it all end with the train ride when they reached the station? He hadn't had friends before, or even really talked to anyone, so he didn't know for sure. All he knew is that some small part of him sort of...hoped.

John just smiled and then looked down at Yorick. "I've heard rumors about you, how you hate everyone and think we're beneath you, but I don't believe it for a moment. I don't think that anyone has really ever given you a chance before."

"Well, you would be half right," Sherlock said. "No one has ever given me a chance, but if they had they would find themselves correct. I do think I'm more intelligent than everyone. That's not to say, though, that I think others are beneath me. There are many things in which I do not excel, where others do."

John seemed to mull this over for a moment before answering. "I knew you were smart, our Charms class proved that. But if you really thought others beneath you, well... You wouldn't be talking to me," he pointed out, "Say, if you have any inclination to come to a Quidditch game, you should come see one of Gryffindor's," he suggested.

"Quidditch...Not really my thing." Sherlock resisted the urge to scrunch his nose, because he didn't want to seem ungrateful for the offer. In truth, he really was. John asking him to come see a match must mean that he wanted to spend more time with him, right? He didn't want to seem too eager or desperate though. He did have a sense of pride. "The crowds are always very loud and there really isn't a point. I would rather take advantage of the castle being empty to study in some peace."

John laughed at that. "The offer is always open. But I do understand." He couldn't help the smile that seemed to be permanent on his face.

Looking at John, Sherlock couldn't help the twitch of his lips into another smile. Just then, the trolley woman knocked on their compartment door. "Anything boys?" she asked.

Sherlock stood. "I'll have a few chocolate frogs and a cauldron cake. Would you like something, John?"

John was quiet for a moment. "I'll have a cornish pastie please." He said, "And a couple chocolate frogs as well." He gave the Trolly woman a smile.

She handed over the snacks and Sherlock gave her a few coins before sitting again. "Here you are," he said, handing John his. Sherlock opened one chocolate frog, keeping a good hold on it while he examined the card. "Another Dumbledore. Dull." He bit the frog's head off to stop it's wriggling.

He chuckled a bit at that and then began to eat his pastie. "Who are you looking for?"

"Ironically, Rowena Ravenclaw. By luck of the draw I haven't come across her yet, and I haven't had anyone to trade with." Sherlock opened another frog. "Godric Gryffindor." He shook his head, eating that frog as well.

John opened one of his chocolate frogs and peered at the card. He grinned and then handed it to Sherlock. "Here, you can have it."

Sherlock looked at the card and there was Rowena Ravenclaw staring up at him. "Incredible...One frog. Thank you." He took the offered card and handed the two he had already opened over.

"Thank you. I didn't have Godric Gryffindor." John took them, a smile on his face.

"Lucky for both of us then." Sherlock bit into his cauldron cake as John took another bite of his pastie. Yes, maybe it really was lucky for the both of them.

It wasn't long after that they arrived at Hogsmeade station. Sherlock had changed into his robes and gathered his things together. "Come, Yorick." He patted his lap and the cat mewled and hopped over to him.

"Well, perhaps I'll see you around school," John said as he gathered his things and after changing into his robes. He opened the compartment door and was met with a few greetings by other students in the area. John waved to a few of them before smiling back at Sherlock. "It was nice meeting you." Then he left the compartment.

"You too," Sherlock said softly, after John had already gone. So that was it then. Especially since they were in different houses, they probably wouldn't ever speak again. _It doesn't matter, _he thought. _Life goes on._ Getting himself ready, he stood up and left the train.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everybody! So, as promised, here's another chapter! :D I've already gotten a few faves and alerts since last week, but I'd love some reviews from you guys too! I love hearing your feedback about the story ^^ I know it hasn't been long, but hopefully you like it so far. :D

Anyway, I don't have much else to say this time around, so I suppose I'll sign off! Follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr to get updates for when a new chapter comes out, or follow me or the story. Don't forget to review, and I'll see you next Monday! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

For the next three weeks, life had went on, just as it had every year before. Sherlock sat alone, ate alone, studied alone, and it didn't bother him. Well, maybe not completely. For some silly reason, a part of him had decided to hope that John might actually sit with him in class, or try to talk to him during breaks, but nothing of the sort happened. So Sherlock crushed that part and moved on, going about his ways as usual. Until-

"Hello Sherlock!"He turned in surprise to see John coming towards him one day after their shared Potions class. "How are you?" Just when he had accepted fact that the Gryffindor had only been a one time companion, here he was talking to him again. Maybe...But no, he wasn't going to get his hopes up again. This was probably some kind of pity conversation. To clear John's guilty conscience for not having spoken to him since the train ride.

Sherlock kept walking and answered in a casual tone, "I'm doing well, thank you. And you?"

"That's great to here. I'm doing well myself," John said, with that big smile that he wore all the time. "What's your next class?"

"Arithmancy," Sherlock said. "And yours would be Herbology, yes?"

"Yes it is." Once again, the boy hadn't asked how Sherlock knew, just accepted that he did. John shouldered his bag a little higher. "What did you think of today's lecture?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Dull. I've already read through the whole book so I knew what was coming ahead of time. The brewing is the only enjoyable part of Potions."

"I'm only decent at the brewing," John said as they walked. The further they went down the corridor, the more Sherlock noticed looks they were receiving from passing students.

"Really? I heard you were good at everything. You have trouble with the theory?" Sherlock asked. When he cast his gaze towards a few of the watching students, they quickly turned their heads. He knew this would probably happen since this was the first time anyone had seen them interact. Everyone was probably shocked that Sherlock Holmes was talking to someone for a change, and that that person was John Watson.

John, however, either hadn't noticed or didn't care about the opinions of the general population. He just kept on walking. "Maybe I'm rusty, but it's just not coming right now," he said with a shrug. "The theory just isn't as easy as it was last year."

"Understandable. It's a much higher level now that we're in N.E.W.T.s." Sherlock paused, getting an idea. But he wondered if maybe he shouldn't even bother offering. If this really was just a pity conversation, then he would probably look stupid. But then again, it couldn't hurt to try..."If you like, I could help you out."

John stopped at the junction that would take him towards Herbology and Sherlock towards Arithmancy, and smiled. "That would be great! I mean, if you have time." He reached for his pocket, but then frowned, as if remembering something. "You'll have to send me an owl and we can work out the details. I wish my mobile worked here, I'd give you my number."

Sherlock's lips twitched up a bit, but he held back the smile. John seemed to be sincere about accepting the offer, but time would only tell. "It wouldn't really help if it did," he said in response to John's comment. "I don't have one myself. But I will send you an owl."

"Sounds good!" John said, still grinning.

Sherlock nodded once, then drummed his fingers on his books. "Well, I suppose I ought to be getting to class. I'll be in touch." With another nod Sherlock headed up the stairs towards Arithmancy, a strange feeling in his chest. Was that the hope that he'd pushed away earlier? It felt even stronger than before, and it felt...good. Was this why people had so many friends? So they could feel good like this?

_.~.OMWF.~._

"But the theory doesn't make sense!" John finally exploded after a long minute of silence, "If you boil a plant that long, it should be stripped of everything!" He groaned and slumped back.

It had been two weeks since Sherlock offered to help John. They had met a few times already, and now part of him was regretting it. He didn't have the best patience when someone didn't understand what he was trying to explain, and John was being a bit stubborn. But the rest of him was actually glad to be spending time with him. When he wasn't being stupid about Potions theory, Sherlock found John was actually rather enjoyable. And the more times they met, the more Sherlock felt like John was actually trying to be something like a friend to him.

For now, however, Sherlock sighed in frustration. "John, you're thinking in a very Muggle way. This plant is magical so its layers regenerate. You need to let go of your Muggle conventions."

John ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Sherlock!" He slumped down, groaning.

"I understand the difficulty but you need to think outside of what you already know." Sherlock looked at the textbook, trying to think of some other way to explain it but coming up with nothing.

John sighed and leaned forward a bit. "Give me the book." He took it carefully from Sherlock's hands and looked at the passage again. This needed to make sense. Theory was half of the leg work of Potions.

While John looked the book over again, Sherlock glanced around at the other students in the library. More and more people were giving them weird looks or whispering to their friends. It had been happening increasingly since they started to study together, and the beginnings of rumors were starting to float around about them. Sherlock just crossed his arms over his chest and sunk lower into his chair.

"John, perhaps we should pick this up some other time." He himself didn't care too much about the looks (even though he could feel the stares as if they were pressing into his back), but he knew that John had his reputation and he didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

John looked up from the book, blinking almost owlishly at Sherlock. "What? Why? We're doing good I thought." The look on his face made it seem as though he hadn't even realised that they were the apparent main attraction of the library.

"Doing well, John," Sherlock corrected. "And I think everyone else is noticing that." He jerked his head to one of the many tables surrounding them where there were students from the other houses watching them intently.

John followed Sherlock's gesture, then frowned. "They can piss off then," he said. "I don't much care what they have to say or think about me." Sherlock tilted his head a little, studying the other boy. This must be the reason why John was popular; he was relaxed, he didn't care what people thought of him and he made a point to talk to everyone, even the freak loner of Ravenclaw.

"Well, if you're sure..." Sherlock smiled faintly. John was so different from everyone else. Maybe that was why he felt such a draw to him.

"Of course I'm sure," John said, perking up again. "Now..."

_.~.OMWF.~._

Sherlock didn't know why he was doing this. He hated crowds. He couldn't hear himself think. But for some reason despite that, he was bundling himself in a scarf and a coat and walking down to the Quidditch pitch. He found a spot high up in the stands and settled himself in for the match. Of course, he was once again sitting alone, but that was okay. Easier to concentrate on the game. He'd never really learnt the mechanics of Quidditch and now was as good a time as any.

The players were starting to come out on the pitch, and Sherlock spotted John in his red and gold Quidditch uniform, broom slung over his shoulder. He was chatting with the Seeker as they walked out and laughed a bit at something the Seeker said. The Ravenclaw watched as he and the team got themselves ready at the center of the pitch. They were playing Hufflepuff, and the black and yellow team gathered across from them around Madam Hooch. She threw the Quaffle into the air and the match began.

That calm that seemed to embody John didn't vanish because he was on the field. He sat on his broom, perfectly relaxed as the game began. He watched the players, floating on the broom, springing into action when anyone from Hufflepuff got close enough to attempt to score.

Sherlock watched intently as John maneuvered to block the scores. It was actually somewhat suspenseful, not knowing if he'd be able to block it until the last second. But soon he found that John was able to block every attempt. When he saved one close call Sherlock even found himself cheering. He cast a charm sending red and gold sparks into the air.

But in spite of his cheer and sparks, it seemed that John had no idea that Sherlock was even at the game. Of course, even if he had looked out into the crowd, it was unlikely he'd notice him, so Sherlock didn't let it bother him much.

In the end, Gryffindor won and the other players decided to dogpile on John once they were on the ground. He vanished under a wave of gold and red Quidditch robes and it was ten minutes before he finally dug himself out. John was laughing and heading towards the lockers with the team. Sherlock decided to head down and waited outside to say hello.  
It was about another ten minutes before John stepped out of the lockers, freshly showered and changed back into his normal attire. He pulled his scarf around his neck, smiling to himself.

Sherlock stepped a little closer. "Congratulations. It was quite a match."

John spun around surprised. "You came!" The smile on his face only grew.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "It wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be." He felt a little warmth in his chest at John's smile. He was actually happy to see him.

John grinned. "Come on, lets go to dinner," he said. "I'm starved."

Sherlock allowed himself another smile. "Yes, let's." The two started up to the castle together, John leading the way.

"So you enjoyed the game?" the blonde asked as they walked. "I can't believe you really came."

"Well, everyone else was going and I'm already a month ahead of the classes so I thought I would give it a chance." Sherlock shrugged, acting nonchalant. "I did enjoy it. It was exciting, despite the crowd."

"You didn't kill anyone, so that's a win," John teased as they walked to the school.

Oh. He hoped that John hadn't heard any rumors that he was involved in the Dark Arts. He couldn't speak for the rest of his family, but Sherlock was not one to dabble with that kind of magic. "Of course not. I may strange but I'm not a murderer," he said, a bit defensive.

"I was joking, Sherlock," John said with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh." He cleared his throat as they entered into the Great Hall. "Well, of course." He wasn't used to that, being joked with, since he'd never had anyone to joke with him before. Even his family was all very serious, hardly ever cracking a smile.

When they were inside, the Gryffindor table cheered to see John, but it didn't last long when they saw that Sherlock was with him. They were still getting looks even though it had been a few months now that they had been spending time together, and now was no exception. Sherlock bowed his head, and was about to make his way for the Ravenclaw table when John tugged on his sleeve. "Would you like to sit with me?" he asked.  
Sherlock looked down at him, wondering if this was a good idea. "If you'd like me to. But..." He looked back out at the hall, at all the faces turned their way.

"Forget them. I would love it if you did." John smiled. He took Sherlock's hand before he could answer and dragged him over to the Gryffindor table.

Sherlock looked down at their hands in surprise, this being perhaps the most physical contact between them since they shook hands on the train. A faint smile graced his lips as he let John take him to the table. He sat next to the other boy, and the Gryffindor on his other side scooted away.

John introduced Sherlock to some of his friends at the Gryffindor table, even though it was unnecessary. Everyone knew who he was, and knew their perceived version of him. But Sherlock just politely nodded to each of them and then turned his attention to dinner. He ate quietly, listening to John talk to them, none of them attempting to involve Sherlock in the conversation.

Once there was a lull in John's conversation, he nudged Sherlock. "Want to come to Hogsmeade with us this weekend?" he asked, turning towards him. "Or you can I can go if you don't want to be around a lot of people. Molly and Mike usually go together and I end up being a third wheel."

Sherlock looked over to John, a smile ghosting over his face. At least he hadn't forgotten about him. "Alright. Sounds entertaining."

John gave him a skeptical look. "Have you ever been to Hogsmeade?" he asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "I went the first trip in third year but I haven't been since," he said. "Not much to do, no one to go with." It didn't bother him too much. Hogsmeade tended to be crowded at the best of times, and that was undesirable.

"Well, we'll have to change that," John said, and smiled. There was a short pause, and then he spoke up again. "Hey, thanks."

"For?" Sherlock arched an eyebrow at him.

"You're pushing your boundaries," John said. "You came to the Quidditch match even though you said you didn't like them, just for me." He glanced down at his lap for a moment, smiling. "You didn't have to, but you did."

Sherlock tilted his head a little. John was right, he had pushed himself, only because of him. Only because he...he wanted to be friends. His mouth twitched up into a small smile. "I'm assuming I did something right then?"

John looked up again and chuckled. "Yes, you did."

"Well, I can't promise that this will be a regular thing," Sherlock said. "But I think I can push myself a little more in the future."

"It's alright Sherlock." John smiled at him. "You do what you're comfortable with. It's all fine." He nudged him and then offered him a biscuit.

"Thank you." Sherlock took the biscuit, and bit into it. "Good intuition. It's my favourite kind."

"Glad you like it." John grinned and then picked something for dessert for himself.

As Sherlock munched on his treat, he noticed a few of the Ravenclaws looking at him. He decided it best to adopt John's attitude; who cared what they thought anyway.

_.~.OMWF.~._

After dinner, John and Sherlock took a walk around the castle, not really trying to get anywhere. John was unusually quiet, and Sherlock wasn't sure what to say, so they stayed in silence for a while.

"Are we friends?" John asked softly when they turned down a peaceful corridor on the third floor. "Do you think we are?" He stopped and looked up at Sherlock, his cheerful demeanor replaced with one of almost...worry.

Sherlock was rather surprised by the question. If anyone, he should be the one asking that. After all, he was the one who hadn't ever had a friend before, who feared that he would make a mistake and ruin the fragile bit of relationship they'd been building. But after thinking over his answer for a moment, he said, "I think that's more for you to judge. You have the most experience." He smiled down at John. "If you think we are then so do I." This was it. The defining moment.

John just smiled. And for Sherlock, that was confirmation enough. A friend...finally a friend.

"It's nice to have a friend," the Gryffindor said after a moment.

"Yes, I- wait." Sherlock furrowed his brow. "You say that as if you don't have any."

John sighed. "I do. But at the same time, I feel they expect something of me," he said. "They see me as the best Quidditch player, or the smartest Gryffindor, or the nicest bloke in school. But with you, Sherlock, I can just be me. You don't expect me to be the best anything, just myself. And I appreciate it."

"Oh..." Sherlock looked at John and found his deep blue eyes were as sincere as his words. The dark-haired boy felt an unfamiliar sensation somewhere in his chest. John's words were perhaps the nicest thing anyone had ever said about him. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "Should I say anything?"

"Not if you don't want to," John said with a small shrug and a smile.

"I feel like I want to." Sherlock thought for a moment, trying to put what was in his mind into words. It was harder than he thought. "I've never had a friend before," he started. "And I've observed the way others at this school act and determined that it wasn't worth it to have one. But you are an exception it would seem, and...I'm glad to have met you." That was the most he could do. He was rather bad with expressing his emotions.

John just smiled wider. "I'm glad I was running late on September 1st," he said honestly.

Sherlock smiled back. "As am I."

They walked for a little while longer, until they reached Gryffindor tower. John turned the Sherlock and gave him a little wave. "I'll see you later." He grinned and then headed up the stairs to the door.

Sherlock nodded. "Good night, John." Then he turned in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower, unable to quell the smile from his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! I'm here with another chapter to hopefully brighten up your Monday ^^

Just want to let you know, over on deviantART starting Wednesday, I'm going to be posting a revised version of **I O U Much** **More **which will be updated every Wednesday. If you follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr, you'll know when the first chapter is uploaded. ^^

Alright, guys, I think that's all the important stuff so far. Please read and review and enjoy this chapter and I will see you all next Monday! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

It had been about two weeks since Sherlock had accompanied John to Hogsmeade, and they hadn't really spoken since. But Sherlock was a little more confident that it wasn't something he'd done. He could see how busy John was, trying to stretch himself between his N.E.W.T. classes and Quidditch. His theory was only proven when he came into the library one day with a load of books in his arms to return, only to find John in a little corner surrounded by books. Sherlock set his returns on the desk for Madam Pince and then made his way over to the desk where his friend was scribbling on some parchment. "Hello, John," he said, then glanced at the books he was using. History of Magic. "Binns finally giving a test?"

John hardly looked up and shrugged. "More like a research scroll," he replied. "It's relatively simple, but I've vowed to not skate by in Binn's class anymore. So, I'm actually trying to put effort into it." His hand had never paused from his writing.

Sherlock could see that John was rather engrossed, so he figured it was best to let him concentrate. "Well, I should leave you to it then," he said, turning to go.

That made John look up, and he set his quill down for a moment. "You don't have to go," he said. "I know I've been busy, but I like spending time with you."

Sherlock turned back around but shook his head. "I don't want to distract you. I would offer to help but I'm rubbish with History of Magic. Binns's lectures were far too dull for me."

A small smile passed over John's face. "I've been at it for two hours already. I think I need a break." He chuckled, but he picked his quill back up. "I wish the Professor wasn't so bloody dull, but what can one do?"

Sherlock knew it probably wouldn't help John with his essay to start a conversation, but he sat down in the chair opposite anyway. He enjoyed spending time with John too, even just fleeting moments like this. He smiled back at John. "There's not much you can do. The subject material is already uninteresting and Dumbledore doesn't have the heart to hire a more lively teacher. No pun intended."

"I know, I know." John sighed and shook his head, lifting one of his books up to glance at a passage. "To me at least, the history of Wizards is remarkable."

"Oh, I've no doubt that there are some aspects which are quite engaging," Sherlock agreed. "But it's not useful information. I've only kept what I absolutely need and the rest has been deleted."

John lowered his book and gave Sherlock a skeptical look. "You delete information? Eventually all information is relative," he pointed out.

Sherlock shrugged. "I know what's necessary within the fields that I wish to pursue. It's all been organised in my mind. I do have a Pensieve where I put anything I plan on deleting, just in case. But I haven't had to go back to it yet."

John stared at Sherlock for a moment and then shook his head. "You're mad, absolutely mad."

One side of Sherlock's mouth rose up. "I just don't want to clutter my mind with things I don't need. People fill their brains with such nonsense that they can't find what they need when they need it."

"You are impossible sometimes," John said, smiling. He then went back to his history paper, but the smile didn't leave his face.

Sherlock didn't want to leave even though John had started to write again, so he opted to watch him. It was fine with him, the silence was companionable. But as he continued to watch, he felt that strange bubbling sensation in his chest again. He supposed he was just happy; happy to have someone to call a friend. He smiled and leaned elbows on the table and his chin on his hands.

It took John about a half hour, but he finally finished the essay and rolled it up to put in his bag. He looked up and smiled at Sherlock. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"I wanted too," Sherlock said. "I enjoy your company as well. You're an interesting person, even if you're just writing an essay."

"I'm interesting?" the Gryffindor asked raising an eyebrow. "First time I've heard that."

"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod. It was true, he just found John inherently interesting. Even if it was just because he was the only person who wasn't deterred by his reputation. But over time he'd found other reasons as well. "The expressiveness of your face, for example. It's easy to see what you're thinking just by your expression."  
"Oh yeah? Then what am I thinking now?" John asked looking at Sherlock. His face was neutral, but there was a faint smile on his face.

Sherlock studied him for a moment. "You're thinking that I'm mad, but you like it," he said with a grin.

John let out a laugh. "Exactly."

"See? Your face is very easily read," Sherlock said. "It's entertaining to watch."

John just shook his head at that. He then began to clean up the area. "I need to go to dinner then down to the Quidditch pitch."

"Ah, yes. Well, then I suppose I will see you again soon?" Sherlock said, standing. "Unless..." He paused as another thought came to him. "Unless you'd like to have dinner together?"

"At the Ravenclaw table?" John asked, "I'd love to."

Sherlock smiled, that bubbling feeling infiltrating once again. "Wonderful. Shall we?"

"Yes, let's go." John slung his bag over his shoulder and then led the way out of the library. They walked together down to the Great Hall and to Sherlock's house table. The dark-haired boy sat at the end of the bench, his usual spot, but this time left room for John.

After John had settled himself in, he smiled at a few of the Ravenclaws, some of whom waved back at him. The majority, however, just ignored the two of them. They still garnered the occasional funny look, but lately the students had been keeping to themselves.

Sherlock filled his plate with a few things and then turned to John. "So, late night practice?" He had been getting better with initiating conversations since he and John talked regularly.

"Yep," John answered after finishing a bite of steak. "Want to come watch?"

"Sure. It'll be less crowded than an actual match, which is a plus." Sherlock picked up his roll and buttered it.

John chuckled a bit and then took a roll himself. "You really dislike crowds, don't you?"

Sherlock swallowed his roll and shrugged. "Too loud to think. I don't like being cut off from my thoughts."

"Ah. I see." John said before going back to his steak. There was a bit of silence between them, but never since that first day on the train had it been strange or unwelcome. It was just comfortable.

"Do you really like flying?" Sherlock asked after a moment.

John turned back to him, then put his chin in his hand, suddenly deep in thought. "I love flying. It's... It's like a high. The adrenaline..."

Sherlock hummed, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. John obviously found release from flying. It was probably the least stressful of all his activities. "I only ever flew during flying lessons first year. Is it really that much fun?"

"If you can relax and just forget about everything... flying is amazing," John told him, only confirming his thoughts.

"Maybe I'll give it another try," Sherlock said, and then went back to his food again. They finished up after a while and soon dessert was appearing on the trays in front of them.

John turned to Sherlock again once he was finished eating, and ran a hand through his hair. "What are your plans for the holidays?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Probably going to stay here," he said, grabbing a biscuit from one of the trays. "You?"

"I never go home," John said, then glanced down in his lap. Sherlock could tell there was something he was leaving out, but he didn't want to pry. Instead he just smiled and took a bite of his biscuit.

"Well then, shall we spend the holiday together?"

John looked up again, a grin forming on his face. "Yes, that'll be nice."

"Very," Sherlock agreed, glad to see John smiling again. It seemed unnatural for John to be anything but cheerful. "I'm sure Mycroft will attempt to convince me not to stay here, but I can't be bothered to deal with him." He rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Your brother?" John asked. They'd never really discussed their lives outside of Hogwarts before.

Sherlock sighed. "Yes. He's desperate for a family Christmas, but every year he tries it's insufferable." He shook his head. "I'm not going to answer his owls, no matter how many he sends."

John nodded slowly, then looked at Sherlock again. "I'll go with you," he offered. But this only made Sherlock shake his head quickly.

"No. You can't."

John's brows furrowed. "Why not?"

Sherlock bit his lip. He didn't want to insult John, but there was no way to tell him the truth except to be blunt. "John...I don't know if you noticed or not but I come from a very old pureblood family. They are very anti-Muggle. I don't agree with their ideas because there is no point behind them and it's stupid to waste time and energy feeling antipathy towards anyone without reason. If they met you they would be able to tell as easily as I could upon first sight that you are Muggleborn and it would be terrible."

There was a silent pause as John seemed to let this sink in. Then he shrugged, but it was half-hearted. "I'm used to it. It's okay."

Sherlock shook his head. "You don't understand. They might not even let you into the house."

"Sherlock. It's okay," John insisted. "I'm used to being looked down on for being Muggleborn."

Sherlock quirked his mouth to the side, feeling as though he'd said the wrong thing. "It really is stupid. There's no difference between your magic and mine."

"You don't have to prove anything to me," John said. "I know you're not like them."

Sherlock could see that John was being sincere, and he nodded. But he still didn't feel right about it. Before his disagreeing with his family was just logical, but now that he had made friends with John it became personal.

"You haven't offended me," John said, trying to reassure him.

Sherlock looked into John's eyes and gave him a faint smile. "Alright. If you say so." He took another biscuit to nibble at. "So what is your family like? I don't know much about Muggles."

Now it was John's turn to sigh. "My family...They don't understand, well...Me. They're confused and scared when it comes to magic. That's why I don't spend holidays home, except for the summer one."

Sherlock hummed and nodded. "I imagine that an introduction to the magical world must be as bizarre for a Muggle as a wizard being thrown into the Muggle world."

"Yes," John agreed. "But it's not too bad over the summer, I guess. I volunteer at the local hospital to keep myself busy. I'm interested in being a doctor."

"Doctor. What is that?"

"A Muggle Healer," John explained. That got a few strange looks from the Ravenclaws around them. Probably wondering why anyone would want to work in the Muggle world if they had magic. Sherlock frowned at them and stared them down until they looked away, and John gave him a thankful smile. "In order to be a doctor, though, I have to keep up on my Muggle schooling."

"Oh." Now it made sense, why John always seemed overworked. "That sounds like much more effort than it should be. Why not just be a Healer?"

"Because I want to help Muggles," John said without hesitation. "And having knowledge of the human anatomy can be very useful in the wizarding world."

That much Sherlock could agree with. "I suppose. Our courses do lack a certain amount of basic knowledge that we probably should know." He nodded as he thought about it. "Yes. It's a commendable position. And you'll make a fine doctor."

John's face turned red at the praise. "Thank you, Sherlock," he said quickly, looking away.

"You're welcome." Sherlock saw John blush and realised that it was the first time he'd ever seen the other boy that way. For some reason this elicited the same response in himself. _Odd, _he thought. As he tried to get his cheeks to cool down.

Just then, John jumped up to his feet. "I should head to practice. Coming?" Sherlock nodded, getting up with him. They started out of the Great Hall and the castle towards the pitch. "You know, I think people have gotten used to the idea that we're friends," John said when they arrived to the pitch.

"I think you're right. I've noticed less stares lately," Sherlock said. He was glad. He didn't care what people thought but it had been starting to get tedious being stared at all the time.

"That or they're wondering when I'm going to snap and strangle you. Then again, you never really know." John smiled teasingly, then set his bag down on the stands and waved to the Seeker who was already out on the field.

"I believe you would have been more inclined to earlier on," Sherlock said with a wry smile. He watched John waving to the Seeker. "You should probably go down there."

"I know, I know." John smiled at Sherlock and then scrambled down to join his team. Sherlock settled himself in the stands, watching as the team warmed up and the Captain gave orders. Practice was definitely different from a game. It was slower paced and repetitive as they ran drills and moves. But Sherlock found himself liking this as well. Seeing the methods behind the game was fascinating.

As he watched, he could tell that John was subconsciously mimicking everything the Captain was doing. He would be the oldest person on the team come the next fall, so it was likely that he was hoping to be chosen as Captain. Sherlock had no doubt that he could do it, but that would be stretching him thinner than he already was. He just hoped that John didn't run himself into the ground.

By the end of the practise, John was thoroughly exhausted but thrilled and thrumming with excitement. He rubbed the back of his neck as he headed up to meet Sherlock in the stands. "Thanks for waiting."

"Of course. It was actually interesting," Sherlock said. "You play very well." Even without the little knowledge he had amassed, Sherlock was able to tell this easily.

"Thank you," John said as he shouldered his bag.

They had already started back for the castle when Sherlock said, "You want to be Captain next year." It wasn't a question. "You mimic the current one. You're quite the over-achiever," he teased.

John turned red again at that. "After I leave Hogwarts, I have a year or two before I have to go to University to become a doctor, so I could play."

"They'll be quite upset to lose you to the Muggle world if you do play. But if that's what you want to do." Sherlock shrugged.

"I do. I can't be a doctor without a proper Muggle education," John pointed out.

"True. But it seems rather difficult," Sherlock said, furrowing his brow. "You could more easily be a Healer or even a star Quidditch player. Unless it's that you enjoy the challenge."

"Something worthwhile doesn't come easily," John said.

"I suppose. I admire your effort then." Suddenly, on a whim, Sherlock lifted his hand, not sure at first what he was about to do. His fingers curled in, then out, and then he let it land on John's shoulder. It was the first time he had initiated physical contact between them.

John looked at the hand, and then at Sherlock and smiled. He reached up and touched Sherlock's hand. "That means a lot coming from you. Thank you."

Sherlock felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest which made it up to his cheeks. He cleared his throat, taking his hand back. "You're welcome," he said, turning away slightly. "You must be tired. We should probably head off to bed."

"Right...Yes. See you later." John stayed in the same spot for a moment, however, studying him before turning to head for the Gryffindor tower.

"Goodnight," Sherlock said and turned to go to his own tower. All the way there he thought about the strange feeling he had experienced. He couldn't place a name on it, but he decided it must all be part of the unfamiliar realm of friendship related feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

Goooood morning my darlings! Here is another new chapter for you all. ^^

Just a quick thing: if you head over to my deviantART, I'm in the middle of uploading two other stories; one is a unilock and one is the revised version o Much More. If you read that latter before and want to see it even better, or you enjoy unilock and are looking for something new, head on over! I'm SailorXStar over there too XD

And that's all for now! Don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr for updates, and please review if you're enjoying the story so far. Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

Another time Sherlock would find John in the library, he was asleep, his head on a text book. The Ravenclaw approached his sleeping friend and examined the book underneath. A medical text, obviously Muggle in origin. He shook his head. John really was overworking himself. Gently he shook his shoulder. "John? John, wake up."

"Huh?" John jerked away and blinked blearily around. "Sherlock?" His groggy gaze passed over the library, looking confused as to how he'd gotten there.

Sherlock smiled faintly. "Sleeping on books in this position is hardly good for your back," he teased. "You should take a break," he added more seriously.

John rubbed his sleepy eyes and shook his head. "I can't afford to," he protested. "I have to keep up on my Muggle education too."

"You're running yourself into the ground," Sherlock said, quirking his mouth to the side. It wasn't often that he felt concern for others, but in John's case it was different. He actually cared about him.

"You can't take my classes for me, Sherlock," John countered. "And I will be fine. I have Sundays."

Though John's eyes were framed by dark circles, there was a strong determination in them. Sherlock sighed. "Sunday is a few days away and your body is telling you that you need to rest," he said. "Have you even eaten anything recently?"

That got John to pause and think. When was the last time he ate something other than a piece of toast and running off to the library or class or the Quidditch pitch? "Um..." Normally was was the one cajoling Sherlock to eat.

Sherlock started to close up John's books, marking the pages with spare bits of parchment. He wasn't about to let John collapse. "Come. I know how to get into the kitchens." He packed everything into John's bag and slung it over his own shoulder.

John thought about arguing, but really, arguing with Sherlock on a good day was like shouting abuse at a brick wall. Didn't get through. He stood up. "You don't need to carry my bag..."

"Bollocks. You haven't eaten for an indeterminate amount of time and you're exhausted. Plus this bag is quite heavy with all the books you carry. You'll thank me later." Sherlock turned and led the way out of the library and down towards the Entrance Hall. It was well past dinner time, so they had to be careful sneaking down. "Have you ever been to the kitchens before?"

"No, I've never had a need before," John admitted as he followed behind Sherlock. The way he stayed just at his heels was almost like a lost little puppy.

Sherlock smirked. "I think you'll like it." They continued down staircase after staircase until they were standing in front of a portrait of a bowl of fruit. Sherlock tickled the painted pear which giggled and turned into a doorknob. He then turned the knob and swung the painting open.

On the other side, the room was still bustling. House elves were darting around, cleaning dishes and preparing things for breakfast the next morning. Sherlock smiled to see John's reaction to the sight of it, eyes widening and mouth slightly ajar. "This castle never ceases to amaze me," he said as Sherlock nudged him inside. The air around them was warm with the smell of baking bread and roasted turkey. "It's quite incredible."

Just then, one of the house elves rushed up to Sherlock, staring up at him with a friendly smile. "Hello, Mr. Holmes! What can Missy get for Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock grinned down at her. Missy was the first house elf that he'd befriended when he'd started coming to the kitchen at off hours for snacks. "Missy," he said, "this is my friend John Watson. He'll be the one eating tonight. John, what would you like?" he asked, looking to him.

"Um, I guess whatever they had for dinner tonight," John said with a shrug.

"A plate of everything then," Sherlock said, turning back to the elf. "And I'll have a few biscuits."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes." Missy bowed and went to the tables that were lined with leftover food to make a plate. Sherlock led John to a small table on the side where they sat down together.

John was still taking in the sight of the expansive kitchen as they sat. Then he looked to Sherlock again and smiled. "I take it that you come here often."

"From time to time. The house elves are better company than my housemates, and I get free biscuits." Sherlock grinned as Missy returned to them with a piled up plate for John and a smaller one of biscuits. "Thank you, Missy." She bowed and went back to work with the rest of the elves.

John thanked the elf as well, and then dug into his food. Just by the way that he was shoveling it in Sherlock could tell that it had been a while since he'd had a full meal. After a bit, the Gryffindor set his fork down and looked at Sherlock, half his plate now gone. "You really are a puzzle at times."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he munched on a biscuit. "You think so?"

"I do," John answered. "On hand, you ignore your Housemates, you think half the things they teach us in class is useless, you don't remember to sleep or eat unless made to do so..."

"All true. But that's hardly puzzling," Sherlock said.

"But yet you care about people in your own way. Yeah, I like my friends in Gryffindor, but none of them would have cajoled me into eating." John said honestly, "They would have left me to myself."

Sherlock smirked. "Well, you're my _only_ friend. I can't let you starve to death."

John chuckled a bit. "Just wouldn't do, would it?"

"Of course not. I like having a friend and I don't think it'll be easy to make another." Sherlock paused to finish his biscuit. "Even if I could, it wouldn't be the same."

John smiled at that, and nudged Sherlock with his foot under the table. "You mean a lot to me. It's sappy yeah, but you don't expect anything from me. You don't expect me to be the best at Quidditch or be a genius."

Sherlock felt that warmth again at John's words. "I just reciprocate what you've done for me. You don't expect me to be normal." He looked into John's eyes, wanting to share the sincerity he always saw in his friend's deep blue ones. "You're the only person who's never called me a freak."

"Well, honestly, we both are," John pointed out with a short laugh. "We live in a thousand year old castle the better part of the year, we studying a culture that's kept from most of society, we hone our skill as wizards. To most of the world, we are freaks. But to us, this is normal."

"But you know what I mean," Sherlock insisted. "I'm a freak even among my own kind." He gave a wry smile. "I don't care for other people's opinions too much, but knowing that there's one person whose opinion isn't negative...it's nice."

John just shrugged at that. "You aren't a freak. Not to me. You may have some weird habits, but it's all fine. That's just you."

"Yes, weird habits..." Sherlock trailed off. "Not sleeping or eating, keeping to myself, deducing who's shagged whom the night before."

John giggled a little. "Yeah, the deduction thing is kind of strange. But deep down, it's just something you're good at. Just as medicine comes to me, people are obvious to you. Little things that they don't think are important, speak volumes to you."

Sherlock paused, and blinked. No one had ever said it so plainly before, like they understood. "Yes...That's exactly it," he said with a grin tugging at his lips.

John smiled back, and then finished up his food. Once the plate had been cleared, and he'd nibbled on a biscuit, he stood up. "I should head to the tower and at least attempt to get some sleep."

"Right," Sherlock said, looking at his watch. "It is getting late." He stood, handing John his bag.

John took the bag and turned, but then looked over his shoulder. "Thank you...for this." He smiled. "Night." Then he disappeared through the doorway.

Sherlock smiled. "Goodnight, John." He watched after John for a moment, then shook his head and headed to his own tower.

_.~.OMWF.~._

When the holidays finally came around, Sherlock and John were among about seven students who had remained at Hogwarts instead of going home. They spent most of the first day together, including having all their meals together in the Great Hall. It was rather nice to have the castle so peaceful, and it really gave the two of them their first taste of real privacy since becoming friends.

As they dined at the Ravenclaw table that night, the large double doors suddenly opened. Both of them turned to see who was coming in and Sherlock's mouth dropped open in shock. A tall man in dress robes with an umbrella in hand walked into the room. "Sherlock. So glad I didn't have to go all the way up to the Ravenclaw tower to find you."

Sherlock glared at him, hot anger rising in his chest. He knew what was coming, and he was not happy. "_What _are you doing here?" John had frowned at the way Sherlock's whole demeanour changed and he reached out to touch his shoulder.

"I've come to take you home for Christmas," the man said, stepping closer. "Mummy would love to see you."

"Piss off, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "I'm staying here."

Mycroft smiled a bit too sweetly. "Come now, dear brother. The holidays are a family time." His eyes traveled to John who he looked up and down. "And the company is bound to be more worthy of your presence."

Sherlock felt his anger flare, while John merely arched an eyebrow. "I think it's best to do what your brother says and piss off," he said calmly.

"And I think it's best," Mycroft said, obviously displeased with having to address John directly, "to mind your own business, Mudblood. It's bad enough that you're tainting the purity of magic with your weakness, but I don't need you corrupting my brother as well."

Sherlock would have retaliated but John beat him too it. "Magic isn't getting weaker," he started, voice confident, but detached. "I believe that magic is limitless and it is only us who keep magic at the limits we believe it's at. And I believe it's single-minded fools like you that hinder magic." Something in John had changed. It was subtle, his back a little straighter, shoulders tensing, hands curling into fists, but it was there. This was a whole new side to the John Sherlock knew. And he couldn't help the ghost of a smile that tugged at his lips. No one ever talked to Mycroft like that.

Mycroft's fake grin dropped at John's words. He turned to Sherlock. "Get up. We are going home now."

Sherlock stood but rooted himself to the spot. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Sherlock Holmes, you will come with me. Now." Sherlock could see that Mycroft was getting angry, but in the end he was all hot air. He grinned in the elder Holmes's face.

"You're wasting your breath. Why don't you take a piece of cake for the road and leave?"

"You can't make him go anywhere Mycroft," John added, standing as well. Sherlock didn't look at him, but he felt a rush of pride that John was his friend and that he was willing to stick up for him.

Mycroft, however, was less than pleased. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he snapped. "Unless you want to see just how much more powerful pureblood magic is. Sherlock, _now_."  
But the Ravenclaw just stared defiantly into Mycroft's face. There was a silence in the Great Hall as they glared at each other without saying a word. After a few moments, Mycroft finally backed away. "Fine. I can see that this is a fruitless endeavour." He turned away and started out of the Great Hall but paused at the door. "This isn't over." Then he stalked away.

Once Mycroft was gone, Sherlock let his shoulders slump in relief. He turned to smile at John, only to find that the other boy was gathering his things. In the next second, he had left the Great Hall, all but sprinting towards the Gryffindor tower. Confused, Sherlock grabbed his things as well and ran out after him. "John!"

He chased him all the way to the moving staircases where John had to pause to wait for one to come to him. He stopped next to his friend, leaning over a little and panting to catch his breath. "What...happened?"

John didn't turn to look at him. His shoulders were still tensed and he was slightly hunched. The staircases seemed to be extra slow tonight. "What do you mean?" he muttered.

"Well," Sherlock said, then swallowed. "You ran away."

John sighed, and hunched over even more. "I'm... I'm angry, Sherlock." He turned around and Sherlock, for a moment, was afraid that John was angry with him. "Not at you," he added, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm angry at your brother and the bloody ridiculous ideas of pureblood and magic! I believe magic is limitless, that we can accomplish anything with it! It doesn't matter if your have purer blood than someone else, it just depends on the person!"

Sherlock gave him a sympathetic look. Or at least, what he hoped was a sympathetic look. "I know. You're absolutely right," he said. "Unfortunately Mycroft and the rest of them are stuck in their ways." He moved closer to John, offering him a small smile. "You know, someday the purebloods will die out, then we won't have to hear about their stupid ideas anymore."

That got John to smile a little, and he leaned against his friend. All the anger had seemed to disappear from his body as he sagged into Sherlock's side. He just looked...tired.

Sherlock felt himself getting warmer with John's weight against him and he went red in the face. On an instinct, he put an arm around John's shoulders. That's what friends did, right? Comforted each other like this.

They stayed that way in silence until John finally said, "I'm going back to my tower," voice weak. But he made no move to leave.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said, tightening his grip a little. "You of all people don't deserve to be treated that way." Somehow he felt like this was his fault.

"I'll be fine," John said, voice a bit choked as he finally pulled away. He rubbed his face, trying to hide evidence of the sudden onslaught of tears, but Sherlock could tell they were there.

"John...You don't have to hide that from me," he said softly.

John looked up at him and swallowed, the tears changing his dark blue eyes to a lighter shade. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," he said, in almost a whimper.

"Don't apologise. You've done nothing wrong." Sherlock hesitated before reaching up a hand to wipe a tear off of John's face. "In fact, you did everything right. You stood up to Mycroft. No one ever stands up to Mycroft besides me."

John frowned at that. "I wasn't going to be cowed by him," he said, voice more firm now. "He's nothing more than a bully, like any pureblood supremacist." He dried his eyes with the edges of his sleeves.

"Too right," Sherlock agreed. "And you were quite impressive. He didn't even know how to respond."

The Gryffindor laughed a little at that and that made Sherlock feel a bit better. If John was laughing and smiling, things were okay. "I think us Muggleborns have more balls than most purebloods."

"I'd believe it," Sherlock said with a chuckle.

"Thanks, Sherlock," John said, giving him another smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He waited just a few seconds longer than usual before turning to head up the stairs towards the tower. Sherlock watched him go with a little wave and a smile, then headed for his own house.

_.~.OMWF.~._

"I don't think your really a Ravenclaw," John said suddenly. He and Sherlock were relaxing in the peaceful, quiet of the Gryffindor common room one night before Christmas day. It was the first time that Sherlock had been in any other house than his own. Even Mycroft hadn't let him into Slytherin when he'd still been at the school in Sherlock's first year. The place was nice, cozy. But maybe that was only because they were the only two there at the moment.

Either way, Sherlock was very much enjoying their little holiday together. "What makes you say that?" he asked in response to John's statement, leaning forward attentively.

"You have qualities of all four houses," John explained. "But, I believe you belong in a house all your own. It seems like you were forced into one of four preconceived notions of what everyone should be."

Sherlock steepled his hands beneath his chin. "Interesting. Though I don't exactly follow you. How am I like all four of the houses?"

John thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "You just are."

The dark-haired boy chuckled a little. "Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." There was a silent pause, then, "You are most certainly Gryffindor, but you also have some qualities of Hufflepuff."

John grinned. "That's what the hat said when it sorted me in first year."

"And the hat is never wrong." Sherlock smirked. "I don't know if you remember my being sorted but it took a while. It was Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

"I remember. I also remember one of the Weasleys complaining about how long it was taking." John chuckled. He reclined back against the arm of the couch.

"Not surprising." Sherlock thought back to that day, and the hat telling him that he was far beyond intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, but also that he had the cunning and solitary attitude of a Slytherin. In the end, it had left the choice to him, and since he had no desire to be anything like his brother, he'd picked Ravenclaw. _"_I suppose that you were right then," he said to John. "About me being like the other houses._" _There was another pause, in which Sherlock leaned back in his seat, thinking more on the subject. "I don't think we should have houses."

John immediately nodded. "It encourages us to make friends, to learn to live with strangers, but it doesn't make us interact with people outside our house."

"Exactly," Sherlock said with a smile. Once again, John understood him perfectly. "Plus it's like what you said before about preconceived notions. Being sorted generalises us."

"We're so much more than the houses we inhabit," John said, and it became apparent to Sherlock that he'd thought about this a lot. "It's thought that Ravenclaws often become healers, yet here I am, a Gryffindor, wanting to be something akin."

"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod. "And I'd like to become an Auror, which is something that usually Gryffindors aspire to."

John beamed. "You'd be fantastic at it. Absolutely fantastic. You're quick, smart, have a scathing wit and single mindedness when it comes to certain things."

Sherlock's cheeks were red by the end of John's praise, and he smiled wryly. "Thank you, John. I just hope those qualities are enough."

John grinned brightly at Sherlock in response. "They are. I know it." Then he looked around the room, at the empty chairs and tables, his face softening a little. "You know, the common room's is never this quiet."

Sherlock glanced around as well. "Yes, I've heard that Gryffindors tend to usually be rambunctious. This must feel a bit out of the ordinary."

"Feel right at home in fact..." he said, voice a shade quieter.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in surprise."Really?"

John hummed. "When Harry, Mum, or Dads aren't having a row, yes. We keep to ourselves pretty often."

"Oh." Sherlock frowned. "Sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked." John's family appeared to have problems too, different problems from his but still, and he felt he might have touched upon a sensitive subject.

But John just shook his head. "It's alright. We're friends, you can ask away. I'm always left alone."

Sherlock quirked his mouth to the side; no wonder John was so self-reliant. "Not much of a 'family' then really," he said. "I understand where you're coming from, although I elect to be alone. Do they fight very often?"

"Every bloody day. About Harry's drinking, about Harry's wife, ex-wife. About Dads' choice to join a rugby team at his age. It's all so damn annoying." The Gryffindor rubbed a hand over his face.

Sherlock nodded once. "I can imagine. Unsurprising you don't go home if you don't have to." He looked to John. "I'm sorry."

John just shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said honestly.

"But you shouldn't be. You shouldn't have had to get used to it."

"Every family is a bit off, Sherlock," John said, sitting up properly and leaning forward, watching Sherlock.

"Yes, but you don't deserve that, John," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes locked on John' didn't know why it bothered him so much, but it did. John, who was so kind and caring and good, really didn't deserve to have such problems.

"Sherlock, I'm fine," John insisted. "I can make it on my own."

Sherlock frowned. "Just because you can doesn't mean you have to," he murmured, surprising himself.  
John looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing only because he seemed to be really taking him in. Then slowly, a smile formed on his lips. He shook his head, and Sherlock knew the conversation was over. "What should we do today?"

The Ravenclaw thought for a moment. "We could go into Hogsmeade for a bit. We haven't been since the first trip."

"I'd like that," John said with a fond smile.

"Excellent. Shall we then?" Sherlock stood and extended a hand to John to help him up. Without hesitation, John reached out and took Sherlock's hand, curling his fingers around it with a smile, and he pulled him up from the sofa. The same warmth that usually appeared whenever he made physical contact with John bubbled up into his chest. He let his hand linger in John's for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

"Sherlock?" John said, looking up at him. Sherlock swallowed and let go.

"Sorry. Let's head out." He started ahead of John, hiding the slight tinting of his cheeks. He needed to stop this strangeness. He was sure John wasn't feeling these things.


	5. Chapter 5

Goooood Monday morning darlings! Here's something that will hopefully brighten your day if you tend to get the Monday blues: a new chapter! :D

So things are starting to turn here, and the next chapter could be perhaps called the climax of the first arc. From chapter 7 onward things get heavier and a little more sad, but I promise there's a happy ending!

Unrelated side note, does anyone out there like **video games?** If so, my brothers and I and our friend have created a gaming channel called Mashing Buttons on YouTube. We plan on doing a lot of tournament style 4 player games, and some individual content eventually. We already have three videos, so check us out and if you like what you see, subscribe! It would mean a lot to me ^^

Anyway, that's all for this week! Don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr, and I'll see you next Monday with more! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

When Christmas morning finally arrived, John was woken quite rudely from his sleep by someone shaking his shoulder urgently. "Wha?" His eyes snapped open, body tense, but then relaxed as he took in the figure above him.

"John, get up," Sherlock said again, shaking him. "It's Christmas!"

John stared up at Sherlock. "Are you six or sixteen?" He asked blinking to try and wake himself up. "Bugger Christmas, I want a lie-in."

"But John!" It sounded more like 'Jawn'. "You can't just sleep through Christmas!" Sherlock bounced a little on the bed, trying to jar him awake.

"Christ." John groaned before getting up. "When I asked you to stay over, I didn't know you'd be jumping my bed the moment it was a semi-decent hour." Since no one else was around for the holiday, they figured it was fine for them to sleep at whichever house they wound in. It was easier than one of them having to leave every night.

"You know that I don't sleep much," Sherlock said, grinning brightly. "It was all I could do to wait when I first woke up. It was quite boring watching you sleep." He may like holidays at home, but that didn't mean he didn't like the holidays at all.

"Bloody hell you're annoying," John grumbled fondly.

"Come on, John. You've got gifts!" Sherlock moved aside so John could see his little pile at the foot of the bed.

"I see that." John rubbed his eyes and then drew the curtains back on his bed. He made himself comfortable and drew the first gift towards himself. But before he started to open it, he looked back at Sherlock. "Did you get any gifts?"

Sherlock shook his head, unfazed by the question. "I haven't for years." The only time he received any gifts was if he came home for the holidays. It was a sacrifice he was only too willing to make.

John smiled a little, and shifted to open the drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a box and handed it to Sherlock. "Happy Christmas."

Sherlock's eyes opened wider. "John...Thank you." He took the box in his hands. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did," John said with a smile. "That's what friends do."

Sherlock felt like his chest might burst. Just the fact that John had gotten him something was enough to make him smile like an idiot. He pulled off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a little device with a screen and buttons. He turned it over in his hands. "John, is this...?"

"You said you didn't have one," John said, a little sheepishly. "I have to work on a spell or something to get it working around where you live, but...I thought it might be useful." He smiled nervously at Sherlock. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." Sherlock couldn't believe it. It was one of the earliest conversations they had ever had and John had remembered about the mobile. The warmth in his chest spread and he wanted to..."Can I...hug you?"

John nodded and a smiled, opening his arms. "Come here."

Sherlock scooted closer to him on the bed. He hadn't hugged anyone in years and he was feeling a bit awkward, but he ignored it and put his arms around John, resting his chin on John's shoulder. "Thank you."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock in return. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

They stayed that way for a moment, Sherlock rather enjoying the feeling of being so close to John, so close to anyone, before he pulled back. "I got you something too." He got off the bed and dug under the covers of the bed where he had slept the night before to find the pouch. Bringing it back over to John, he said, "It isn't much but I heard that Muggle schools can be expensive so I thought I would help with what I could. You can exchange it for Muggle money at Gringotts."

John stared at Sherlock and then down at the pouch in his hands, and swallowed. "Oh... Sherlock..." he whispered. He looked absolutely gobsmacked and so grateful. "I... thank you, but are you sure?"

"Of course." Sherlock waved a hand. "My family has enough to last me three lifetimes. The least I can do is share that with my only friend," he said with a nod and a smile.

John had a silly grin, and he looked down into his lap. "Thank you," he repeated. He got up to put the little pouch safely away in his trunk. "You'll probably want to hide the mobile from your family, since they're so against Muggles and the like. I already programmed my number into the phone, so you have it."

"Don't worry, I'll find somewhere to keep it," Sherlock assured him. For the time being, he stuck it in his pocket. "You'll probably have to show me how to do certain things. Muggle technology isn't my strongest suit."

"That's the easy part. They're made for convenience."

Sherlock barked a laugh. "We'll see how easily I can make that irrelevant. I just hope that I don't break it in the process."

"I did put insurance on it so if you break it, it can be replaced. But don't go breaking it just to prove you can!" John said nudging Sherlock in the ribs.

"Yes, yes, alright." Sherlock grinned. "Are you going to open your other gifts?"

"Oh. Right. Yes." John picked up the gift he had originally planned on opening and began to unwrap it. Clothes and his allowance from his parents, a bag of sweets from Harry (with a card and a crisp ten note, obviously Clara). Sherlock just watched with a smile, hand in his pocket, fingering the mobile. His only gift in years, and by far the best.

Once all the gifts had been opened, and were stacked neatly at the foot of John's bed, the Gryffindor turned to his friend and smiled, almost shyly. "Um, Sherlock, I... thank you. This has been a wonderful Christmas."

Sherlock smiled fondly back at him. "You're quite welcome, but its not over yet. We've still got the whole day ahead. Unless you want to go back to sleep," he teased.

"I think I'm far past that point by now, so breakfast now would be brilliant."

"I agree. Let's go." Sherlock got up off the bed and pulled John with him. But even after he was standing, he didn't let go of Sherlock's hand. This surprised the Ravenclaw, but he wasn't complaining. He usually let John let go first because he enjoyed the feeling, so if he wasn't going to, that was fine with him.

When they reached the Great Hall they found it sprinkled with the remaining students and teachers who were there for the holiday. "Your table or mine?" Sherlock asked.

"We eat at my table often enough, let's go to yours." John said with a fond smile at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, leading them to the Ravenclaw table. None of his housemates had stayed so they were the only ones there. That was nice, not having to worry about them eavesdropping on their conversations.

"In past years the Headmaster had us all sit at one table. Wonder why not this year..." John said as he sat down next to Sherlock.

"Perhaps because it's only breakfast," Sherlock said. He grabbed a few pieces of toast.

"Perhaps." John said taking some eggs and sausage.

Sherlock picked at his toast and had some pumpkin juice while John made himself a cuppa. "What should we do today? The only problem with staying at the castle is that it can get exceedingly boring here."

"I'm not sure. We can go down to the lake..." John shrugged a bit as he stirred a bit of milk into his tea.

"It's going to snow. But if we go early then we can probably sit for a little while." Sherlock finished off one piece and started the next.

"Alright." They finished up their meal quickly, and stood.

"I just need to get my scarf and coat and then we can go," Sherlock said. "I'll also have to feed Yorick while I'm up there."

John swallowed down the rest of his tea. "We'll have to stop for mine too." They started out of the Hall together, going in the direction of Ravenclaw tower. "I'm thinking of getting a pet. Maybe an owl so we can write each other over the summer."

"They're very intelligent," Sherlock said. "I would have gotten one myself but we have quite a few already around the house. Cats are smart as well, and Yorick is also quite the listener when I need an ear."

John laughed at that. "Only you, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock grinned. They made up to Ravenclaw tower and Sherlock knocked on the brass eagle to receive his riddle. "I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?" it asked.

Sherlock was about to answer but then he turned to John. "Would you like to give it a try?"

John pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. "Darkness, or shadows. Or it could be light," he said with a shrug. He glanced at Sherlock, wondering if that was the right answer. "You essentially can't have one without the other."

"Good try, John." Sherlock nodded. "Of course it was completely wrong, but it was a good try." He really meant it. Most of the other so-called intelligent students in Ravenclaw got stuck outside the common room for hours trying to figure out their riddles. But not Sherlock Holmes. He turned to the eagle. "The letter 'e'." The door swung open and Sherlock stepped through.

John seemed stunned at the simplicity of the answer. "Perhaps I need to stop thinking so scientifically." He stepped went in behind Sherlock with a stifled yawn.

"Or don't over-think," Sherlock said. When he saw his friend holding back a yawn, he started to rethink their plans for the day. This holiday break would be the only opportunity that John would have all year to relax without having to think about Muggle or wizard studies or even Quidditch. He didn't want to force him to keep moving when he really should be resting. "I'm sorry, John. I did wake you up rather early. Are you tired?"

"A bit, but I'll be fine when the caffeine from the tea kicks in," John said. Always stubborn and determined.

"You're sure?" Sherlock asked as Yorick came up and circled around his legs. "We can always stay here instead. You can go back to sleep."

"I'm sure," the blonde insisted. "If I start to drift off, lob a snowball at my head."

Sherlock chuckled. He was still concerned about his friend, but John didn't seem about to collapse, and he'd actually had a full meal so he should be alright. "Okay." He bent down to scratch Yorick behind the ears. The cat mewed, then went to rub up against John's legs. "I'll be back in a moment," he said as he went up the stairs to his room.

John knelt and began to scratch behind Yorick's ears. "Why hello. I'm sorry I haven't been to visit. Your master keeps me quite busy."

Yorick purred, nuzzling his face into John's shin. Sherlock came back after a minute, wearing his coat and scarf and set down a bowl of food. The cat bounded over eagerly and started to eat. "Happy Christmas, Yorick. We'll be back later," Sherlock said, running his hand down Yorick's spine. Then he stood and faced John. "Back to Gryffindor?"

"Yes," John said as he rose. As they started back towards John's house, said shorter boy said, "I think your cat is annoyed at me."

Sherlock glanced at him. "I wouldn't say that. If he was truly annoyed then he would have raked his claws down your leg."

"I take it he's done that to you occasionally," John said with a laugh.

"Once or twice. More often to Mycroft. He's such a good boy." Sherlock smirked.

"He is a good cat," John agreed. He smiled to himself as they continued to walk. "I thought your brother was going to hex me when I politely told him to sod off."

Sherlock snorted. "I would have liked to see him try. I'm sure you would have easily held your own."

"Oh yes, living with Gryffindors has caused me to have quick reflexes," John said before muttering the password to the common room.

"Not to mention your Quidditch expertise," Sherlock added as they stepped inside.

John nodded confidently. "That too." He then headed up to his room quickly. "Be right back!"

Sherlock stood near the fire waiting for John to return. He chuckled to himself. Over the past few days he had spent more time in the Gryffindor tower than his own. It would be a shame when they were stuck in their own houses again after the holidays.

A minute later John came back downstairs, wrapping his red and gold scarf around his neck. "Shall we be off?"

"Let's go."

They made their way out and down towards the Entrance Hall. As they passed the windows, the snow could be seen softly starting to fall and cover the slightly browned grass.

By the time they made it outside there was a good cover on the ground. Immediately, John was like a little kid again, laughing as he scooped up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball. He then threw it at Sherlock's chest, hitting him.

The Ravenclaw smirked when the snowball hit him and made one of his own. He lobbed it at John, aiming for his shoulder and earning another laugh from his friend as it made contact.

As the snow continued to come down, the two lost themselves in battle, laughing and darting about all over the grounds, ducking and dodging. It was the most childish thing that Sherlock had ever done, and frankly the most fun.

At one point, Sherlock found himself with no other option but to hide behind a tree. He peeked around the edge, but found that John had left his dark coat and scarf in the snow, letting him blend better in the heavier falling. He had snowball at the ready, and listened to see if he could hear the snow crunch where John was likely coming towards him. Nothing.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, John tackled Sherlock from behind. "Got you!"

The dark-haired boy yelped, arms flailing as he lost his balance. He threw his hands out in front of himself and snow sprayed in his face as they landed. John was on top of him and he laughed harder than he had in a long time. John was bent over him, laughing much the same. "Did I surprise you?"

Sherlock flipped himself over so that he was on his back, laughter only continuing with John's. It was so catching once his friend started. "Yes. A spectacular feat, if I may say so myself. Well done."

John smiled brightly, face flushed. Likely from the cold since he'd removed his outerwear. "Hot chocolate?" he suggested.

"Sounds lovely." Sherlock pushed himself up. He was about to lead the way up to the castle when he saw John's coat and scarf still lying in the snow. He picked up the garments, both of which were now wet and cold. "For the sake of stealth, now you're going to catch a cold," he said, turning back to John, whose face was still red. "Here." Sherlock undid his scarf and tied it around John's neck gently.

"Sherlock..." John's entire face seemed to heat immediately. "There's no need..."

"Hush. It's freezing and we've got to walk all the way back to the castle. You'd be surprised how quickly you can get frostbite." The now familiar warm feeling filled his chest at the sight of John blushing and wrapped in his scarf. He tried to quell his own flush as he draped John's scarf and coat over his arm and walked back up the hill, John naturally following behind.

About halfway up, John reached out and took his friend's hand, squeezing. "That was fun."

Sherlock smiled as well, slowing a bit so they were walking at the same pace. He made no move to let go of John. "Yes, it was. I've never done that before."

"Then we'll have to do it again," John said with a nod.

"Most definitely," Sherlock agreed. They made it up to the castle and warm air hit them as they stepped into the Entrance Hall. John then took over, dragging Sherlock towards the Gryffindor common room.

"I know a great recipe for hot chocolate."

"And we're going to make it in your room?" Sherlock asked.

"Yep," John answered cheerfully.

"I'm intrigued," Sherlock said with a grin.

The Gryffindor just laughed a bit, a small smirk on his face. "I guarantee it that it will be good."

Sherlock smirked as well, tightening his grip on John's hand. "I have no doubt."

There was a quiet pause, then John looked directly up at Sherlock. "You're my best friend," he said softly, with a fond smile.

This sudden statement finally caused Sherlock to blush, and cleared his throat. "You're...my best friend, too," he said, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips.

John squeezed his hand again, and then pulled his away to climb through the portrait and into the Gryffindor common room. Sherlock climbed in after him, following him up to his dorm. When they reached the room, John began to take out his Potions cauldron, chocolate, vanilla, and some cream. He smiled at Sherlock, as if he was hiding a secret.

Using the cauldron was the first and most obvious idea that had popped into Sherlock's head. But he was surprised at all the ingredients John had managed to find. They seemed to be good quality too, by the look and smell when John started to heat everything together. He must have gotten it from the kitchens. "You planned this all along?"

"The making hot chocolate for you, not the tackling into snow. That occurred to me in the moment," John said with a grin.

Sherlock nodded, lips twitching up a bit. "Makes sense. You wouldn't have been able to plan your battle strategy until in the heat of the moment." He inhaled deeply as the aroma of warm chocolate filled the dorm.

"I can plan well enough ahead. But sometimes with you... Everything just seems to change and warp." The blonde shook his head a little.

Sherlock, however, just smirked. "If everything is obvious then the world becomes boring. It's more exciting to change things up."

"Yes, yes," John said, rolling his eyes. "Conjure us some mugs?"

"Sure." Sherlock pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, making two of their quills form into mugs and float gently into their hands.

"Thank you." John then ladled a bit of the hot chocolate into each mug, and handed one to Sherlock. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will." Sherlock took the mug in both of his hands and sipped. The drink was rich and creamy, running smoothly down his throat and warming him from the inside out. He licked his upper lip where some had stained it. "It's amazing!" he said. Even the hot chocolate they served at breakfast wasn't this good.

"Muggle recipe," John said proudly. "Never found a Wizarding one that can rival it."

"I'm not surprised. It's wonderful." Sherlock took another big gulp.

John had a slightly smug look, and he grinned at Sherlock. "Did I just make you an addict?"

Sherlock looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "It's not that hard. I have an addictive personality."

John just shook his head again and moved to sit on his bed, cradling his mug in his hands. Sherlock took another large sip and decided to join John, pressing in close. They sipped at their drinks in silence, all the chill from the weather outside melting from their bones. When he was finished, John leaned his head against Sherlock's shoulder. "If anyone saw us... They'd think we're together, or at least shagging."

Sherlock turned a little so he could see John in his peripheral vision."They would?" He knew that the other students found it strange that they were friends, but he didn't think that they would assume that the two of them were a couple. But when he thought about it, they did do some misleading things. Holding hands, sitting close together like they were right at that moment. He wondered if perhaps the remaining stares at them weren't just about John Watson perfect Gryffindor befriending freak loner Sherlock Holmes.

"Probably. People tend to think that," John answered. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, though, which put Sherlock strangely at ease.

"I didn't realise..." The more he thought about it, he and John as a couple, the more he felt that warmth in his chest. He had thought these were just normal feelings of friendship, since he had never really felt any others to compare to. But was he perhaps mistaken? This feeling that he had believed for some time was just a part of friendship...Maybe it was actually something more. "Do you mind people thinking that?" he asked, just to be sure.

"No, I don't," John said. "I used to care what people thought of me. But..." He shrugged a bit, "People change."

Sherlock nodded in understanding. He had certainly changed. "I don't either," he said. "They already say enough about me, what's the difference."

John just gave Sherlock a small smile. "I know I've said it before, but I'm glad I met you."

Sherlock grinned. "As am I." He reached up, on a whim, and put his arm around John's shoulders, feeling that bubbling when John leaned into it. He rested his cheek in John's hair, which was softer than it looked. After a few moments, he could feel John's muscles relaxing, and heard his breath slow to an even pace. Sipping the remains of his hot chocolate, Sherlock contented himself to sitting and waiting, for once in his life, until John woke up.

_.~.OMWF.~._

It was about an hour before John finally woke. "Hm? Sherlock?" He blinked a few times and then reached up, rubbing his face. "Did I doze off? You should have woken me."

Sherlock rubbed his shoulder a little. He'd kept his arm around John the whole time, not wanting to move at all for fear of disturbing his rest. He had taken away some of John's sleep that morning, and the overworked boy needed as much as he could get. "No worries. It hasn't been too long."

John nodded and then pulled away, his face a little red from where it had been pressed against Sherlock's clothes. "I should teach you how to use that mobile."

"Alright." Sherlock pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to John. The rest of the afternoon was spent in John teaching and Sherlock absorbing the information, making sure to find a good place for it in his mind palace. By the evening he was sure that he would be able to use it without any problems, once John put the spell on it to make it work in the wizarding world.

Once Sherlock had put the mobile back in his pocket, John looked up at him seriously, hands clasped together in his lap. "I thought I should tell you this...I plan to live in the Muggle world after I'm done with school." When Sherlock's face fell at the news, John looked away. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but there's just too many things I miss."

Sherlock didn't know how to describe exactly what he was feeling, knowing that John was planning on doing this. It just...hurt. "What do you miss?" he asked.

"The convenience, electricity, little things. I mean, if wizards used the internet, it would be quite easy to accomplish the research we need to here at school. All of this is just not what I'm used to."

Sherlock couldn't think of anything that could be more convenient than magic, but then again, he didn't know much about the Muggle world. "But what about magic? Won't you miss that? The things you can do with it?"

"Of course I will," John said. "But not as much as I miss the Muggle world right now." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just...I don't want to completely alienate myself from where I come from. And the wizarding world isn't a good place for a man like me; a man who wants to peruse a very Muggle way of life."

"Right. Muggle life..." He just didn't understand. What was so great about the Muggle world that John would want to leave here? Leave him...

"There is one thing, though. One thing I'll miss more than anything else," John said, looking up again.

Sherlock didn't meet his gaze. "What's that?"

"You," John answered. "I would miss you."

That made Sherlock look up, and he found John's eyes full of the same sincerity that was always present. John had never lied to him before, and never would. "I...I would miss you too. Very much." He now sighed, and found within him a desire to fight for John, to keep him. "Is Muggle life really so preferable?"

"It's what I've known," John said. "And it's where I want to be. Because I want to help people."

"But you can help people in the wizarding world," Sherlock pointed out. "And you're quite well adjusted to magical life, I think." He didn't want to argue with John but he just couldn't let him go, not without trying.

"I'll come visit Sherlock. I promise. But in order to be a Doctor, I have to live in the Muggle world. I can't just appear and disappear," John said. "It's just not possible."

For some reason this was frustrating. It wasn't enough to satisfy him. "You'll be wasting your magical talents."

"I told you, I have at least two years before I have to go off to Uni. If I start at a small college and work online only, I can get five years," John told him. "But I will have to go back to the Muggle world eventually."

"But..." But Sherlock's great mind had run blank; he couldn't think of anything else. He knew that John was determined. It was one of the great things about his friend, but right now he didn't appreciate it as much.

John looked away from him again. He wouldn't show it fully, but he was conflicted. It was just that the stubborn part of him had control. "We should go down to dinner," he said, getting up.

"Right." Sherlock stood as well and they left John's dorm. He felt like he should say something else, but he didn't know how he could put his feelings into words. How to tell John that he wanted him to stay.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello my darlings! Here's another chapter or you all ^^ Things are finally climaxing and I really hope that you enjoy the ride :D

Before we get on to the good stuff I just wanted to thank everyone who has so far favourited and followed this story, because it really does mean the world to me. No one has reviewed so far, but I assume no news means good news XD But if you are inclined to tell me what you think then by all means please do ^^

Alright, enough chit chat. On to the story! Please read and enjoy and I'll see you next Monday :D Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

The rest of their holiday was less cheery than the start. John had spent most of the time trying to get a jump on his Muggle studies, and Sherlock...Well, since that conversation on Christmas day, Sherlock had been a bit frustrated with John. He kept thinking about how he wanted to go back to the Muggle world and it made him feel angry and miserable at the same time. He was starting to wonder if maybe it wasn't worth it to have a friend after all if it was going to give him so many...feelings.

"Well, back to classes then," John said with a yawn as he and Sherlock were leaving the Great Hall the first morning of the new term.

"Yes, wonderful," Sherlock said sarcastically.

John gave him a look, not the same fond and happy look that he used to give him. How had so much changed in the course of a week? Then he just rolled his eyes. "I'll see you in Defense."

"Mmm..." Sherlock started off towards Transfiguration. He was trying, really trying, not to let this get to him, but it was just impossible. John was being stupid about this. What did the Muggle world have that he couldn't get in the wizarding world, where he'd still be with Sherlock?

_.~.OMWF.~._

When it came down to the final game in the Quidditch season, Gryffindor took the win, and subsequently the House Cup for the sixth year in a row. John had even blocked the final goal, and been named Captain of the team for the coming year. But frankly, he didn't feel like celebrating with his House. He left the common room early on into their party and wandered the halls, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. Eventually he headed outside and settled down in a secluded corner of a relatively unknown courtyard. It was one he and Sherlock often came to.

Sherlock...

It was obvious that his friend was upset with him. He had been for months at that point. They'd hardly spoken or spent any time together, not since Christmas. Could that be it? Maybe his choice to return to the Muggle world was making Sherlock upset. He supposed he couldn't blame him. He was Sherlock's only friend, and he was ripping that away by leaving. But it was what he had worked for and dammit he was going through with it.  
He hated to leave school on bad terms, though. There was a little less than a week until they boarded the Hogwarts Express and went their separate ways for the summer. And that didn't sit well with John. There was this tension between them and he didn't know what he could do to break it.  
The selfish part of him wanted to beg Sherlock to come with him, come live with him. But he knew that it would never happen. Sherlock knew nothing of the Muggle world, and why would he leave his whole life just for him anyway? It was just a silly dream...

Sherlock couldn't take being in the common room anymore either, it seemed. His housemates were being insufferable after their loss to Gryffindor. He had debated whether or not to go and see the match and in the end had decided against it. He was still frustrated and he didn't really want to see John at the moment. The peace and quiet of his thoughts and Yorick had been comforting until the Ravenclaws returned, cross and being quite vocal about it. That was when Sherlock stood and left, deciding to go to their...the courtyard. He figured that John would be busy celebrating with his team so he would have the quiet space to himself. However, upon arriving he found that he was not alone. "Oh. Hello," he said when he saw John's figure in the corner. All at once he felt that warmth, that cursed warmth, but also the hurt, and the anger and confusion. Just his luck.

At the sound of someone's voice, John looked up. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock looked down, trying not to think too much about everything that was bothering him. He didn't know why he was so upset about John wanting to live in the Muggle world. Obviously he would miss him, because friends missed each other, yes? But he had started to think that John was more than just an ordinary friend. So that meant that missing him was quite different. Still, according to John, he wouldn't be living in the Muggle world for another five years at best. Why then did Sherlock feel like when they left Hogwarts for the summer that that would be the end? He cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should..." he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" John was up and striding over to him.

Sherlock stopped, turning back around. He looked John in the eyes for the first time since they had stopped talking and he felt like something was breaking inside of him. John had become such an important person to him, the only important person. He couldn't bear the thought of him leaving.

"I..." John hesitated, looking unsure as to what he should say. And in the next moment, he was...kissing him.

Sherlock's eye's opened wide. John...John's lips were moving against his. He had never kissed anyone before but, Merlin, did it feel good. That bubbling feeling exploded in his chest and he let his eyes flutter shut, timidly moving his own lips. Yes. This was what he was feeling, that he just couldn't say.

After a moment, John pulled away, looking up at Sherlock earnestly. "I want to ask you so many things, Sherlock. Things that aren't fair to you," he said softly, "If you can figure them out, then I won't deny them. But I just can't ask."

"John..." Sherlock's heart was racing and his breathing was shallow and he felt lightheaded in the most wonderful way. But he still called him out. "That's...not fair. I can't...read your mind," he said between breaths.

"You don't have to read my mind to know," John said. "And if you figure out the questions...Maybe I'll stay."

Sherlock felt like a weight was lifting from his shoulders. In fact, he felt lighter than he had before. A chance for John to stay? He couldn't pass that up. "I will figure them out."

John smiled a little. "I'll write you over the summer, I promise."

Sherlock nodded. "And I you."

John kissed him one last time, lips lingering against the other boy's and Sherlock returned it without hesitation.

When John pulled away again, he gave Sherlock another smile. "I'd best get to the party before someone comes searching for me." He turned to leave, but Sherlock suddenly realised what one of the questions could be.

"John," he said, grabbing his wrist. "Is one of those questions, do you want to go out with me? Because my answer is yes."

John was quiet for a moment. "Yes, it is," he said softly.

Sherlock grinned. "Good. One down."

"Five to go," John said, the one and only hint he would be giving him. With that, he turned again, and left the courtyard.

Sherlock watched him go, feeling much better than he had before. But he had no intentions of returning to his common room at the moment. He sat on one of the low walls, starting to think about the other questions John wanted him to figure out. It was a challenge, a game, and though it was frustrating, part of him enjoyed trying to work out the puzzle. And he would certainly work it out. He had a lot at stake.

_.~.OMWF.~._

_Sherlock,_

_ I'm sorry for the delay in responses, but things have just gotten so, well... Mad._

_ You would love the laboratory here at St. Bart's. There's so many things you could fiddle with and experiment on. It makes me miss you._

_ How has your summer been thus far? Between my job and the volunteering at St. Bart's and the homework our Professor's gave us, I feel rather hectic._

_ My mates want me to join a casual rugby team. It's a Muggle contact sport, played with one ball. I might, to keep myself in shape for Quidditch._

_ My owl, if I didn't tell you, is named Hamlet. He likes pieces of bacon._

_I await your letter,_

_John_

_John,_

_ Hamlet. I like it. I didn't get a chance to read your letter, however, before he went for the plate of bacon on the table. Right as Mycroft was grabbing a piece, I might add. It was quite the show. You would have been laughing. I miss your laugh. I miss all of you actually._

_ So far the summer has been dull. I've already completed most of my assignments, thus leaving me without much to do. I do get harassed quite often about you. Apparently Mycroft informed dear Mummy and Daddy of our friendship and they highly disapprove. They have been trying to tell me to cease communications with you (and Hamlet's performance didn't help much). Of course, as I am writing this letter to you, you know that I told them to bugger off._

_ I wish I could invite you here for a few days. We have a small Quidditch pitch in the yard that you would love. I've never actually attempted to play but we could have sparred against each other and perhaps I would have picked something up._

_ Yorick misses you as well. He could smell your scent your letter and on Hamlet and he started to purr._

_Waiting for your reply,_

_Sherlock_

_P.S. I am still working on those questions. I'm not going to give up._

_Sherlock,_

_ Don't be surprised when we meet on the train. It was an accident okay?_

_ And know this, I will tell your parents the same thing I told Mycroft and I will stand my own against them. I will not let any pureblood supremacists push me around. I may be a Muggleborn, but I will stick to my gut. Blood and all that other nonsense be damned._

_ If you ever venture into the Muggle world, I'll show you St. Bart's and even let you potentially blow something up. Or experiment. Whatever suits your fancy most._

_ Upon receiving my grades, I noted an improvement. That's your influence Sherlock. I'm quite happy about it. And along with my grades, I received official notification of being chosen as Head Boy. Dear God, do they want me to snap under the pressure?_

_ I wish there was some way I could alleviate your boredom. But there's not much I can do via post._

_ Don't forget to sign up for Apparition classes._

_John_

_John,_

_ Accident? What accident? Are you alright? Now I hardly want to reply to the rest of your letter as you've worried me._

_ Congratulations on your grades and being selected as Head Boy. Though I'm sure if they knew that you were working yourself into a puddle between two sets of schoolwork plus Quidditch, they would have cut you some slack. But I'm sure you can handle things. I will help you in any way that I can._

_ Despite the fact that I would love to see you standing up to my parents, I am still not going to have you come here. It's better that we don't take the risk of the situation escalating out of proportion. I wouldn't, however, be opposed to spending time with you in the Muggle world. I would love the chance to experiment and then blow it up. My cauldron gets quite dusty over the summer._

_I would love it if I could Apparate to you right now,_

_Sherlock_

_Sherlock,_

_ A mate accidentally tackled me wrong during a rugby match and broke my arm. I'm alright, but will still be in a cast on the train to school._

_ That's why I'm not telling anyone. I wouldn't even have told you, but no doubt you would have figured it out and been right cross with me over the whole thing. You're really such a prat sometimes. But I think that's why I like you._

_ Thank you for being honest with me and to be truthful, I wouldn't want to even be in the same room as your parents until I either become a dueling champion or I'm armed through Muggle means. Either way, that won't be happening for a long time._

_ I would be overjoyed if you came for a visit. There's so much to do._

_ And I'll end up having to sign both of us for Apparation classes, won't I?_

_John_

_John,_

_ It's still injured? Here is another advantage to the wizarding world for you: healing is much faster. If Madam Pomphrey had looked at your arm it would feel now as if no one had even so much as poked it._

_ Am I a prat for worrying that you are overworking yourself? As I've said, I admire your determination, but you're sleeping and eating habits are becoming comparable to my own. Someone has to look out for you._

_ I agree. If I can help it, you will never meet my parents._

_ When would you want me? I'm not doing anything of importance here and I'm sure that I can slip away for a few days._

_ Yes. You are the responsible one, after all._

_Sherlock_

_Sherlock,_

_ Of course it is. I'm living in the Muggle world right now. I have to be as Muggle as I can. They often get rather panicky. Look at the history of Wizards and the witch hunts and... I've been doing too much History of Magic reading._

_ I'll be alright. One more year of the dual course load and I'll be finished. Lets just hope 7th year will be smooth or I'll end up making you do my homework. And I think it's sweet that you're looking out for me._

_ Anytime is fine._

_ And one of us has to be, since the other is like a petulant child at times._

_John  
_

There was a piece of paper (not parchment, paper) included that had John's address on it.

Sherlock, of course, studied it closely. He had never seen paper like this, so white and thick. After copying John's address to a piece of parchment to keep, he started to experiment with the paper and some blank parchment to compare and contrast them.

_John,_

_ You know I've deleted History of Magic, for the most part. Entirely too useless._

_ I've heard that 7th year can be quite easy up until the time when we take the N.E.W.T. exams. And of course, I'm looking out for you. Can't have you crumbling under the pressure. How could I ever find someone to replace you?_

_ I'll be there Monday._

_ I do not act like a child...most of the time._

_Sherlock_


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys! I'm so sorry this is later in the day than usual. I just got kind of caught up in an old game that came back to life and I forgot XD But the chapter is here now and I promise, I'll keep on top of things next time :D

So, we're starting to head into the arc of Sherlock and John adjusting to their relationship and learning how to deal with life and love. It's going to get heavier with time and I hope that you all enjoy it as much as the first half :D

That's all for now! Don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr for updates. Please read, review, and enjoy, and I'll see you next week! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

John trudged downstairs early Monday morning in nothing but pyjama bottoms. His parents were on vacation and Harry wasn't around either. The familiar quiet of the house surrounded him and he sighed. Rubbing his eyes of sleep, he headed for the kitchen to make tea.

He hadn't a chance to reply to Sherlock's letter and it hadn't quite occurred to him what day it was. That at any moment his boyfriend would be arriving.

Boyfriend.

That was a nice thought.

Suddenly there was a crash from the living room, which startled John in his groggy state. He darted out of the kitchen and found-"Sherlock? Did you just come out of my fireplace?"

The other boy seemed to have tumbled out of the fireplace, as he was on his back looking up at John with a smile. Attached to him was an overnight bag, which had surprisingly not burst open from the action. He stood, dusting himself off. "Yes. Haven't you ever used the Floo Network befo-"

Sherlock paused as he caught sight of John. Shirtless, sleepy-looking John. He could feel his heart doing back flips in his chest. "-ore..."

"Er, no." John noticed the way Sherlock was looking at him, and he blushed a little. He turned to go back to the kitchen. "I was just making tea. Do you want some?"

Sherlock shook his head, snapping out of his stupor. "Right, tea. Lovely." He gave John a sheepish smile. Part of him wanted to hug John, the other part of him wondered if he should. They had gone from hardly touching to kissing in just a few seconds the last time they saw each other, and he was still a little daunted by the whole aspect of being in a relationship. He didn't know what was okay and what wasn't.

So he merely followed John into the kitchen, sitting in one of the wooden chairs. The dark-haired boy looked around the space, taking in the design and how obviously Muggle it was. There were things that he didn't recognise and it was so much brighter than his kitchen at home. Then again, that may simply have been because of his family's preferences.

He turned his gaze back to John and was met with a pang of desire to be closer. But he was still unsure of exactly what to do. In the end, he decided to go with his gut, and stood, walking up behind him. He grabbed both of John's hands from behind.

"Hm?" John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock, a faint smile coming across his face.

"I missed you," Sherlock mumbled, feeling himself get red in the face. He ran his hand up and down John's encased arm once. "I wish I knew the right spells to heal you."

"I don't need a healing spell, my arm will be healed before school." John grinned and leaned back, and he could feel the way that the shorter boy relaxed against him. That was nice. "I missed you, too."

Sherlock was feeling more and more comfortable by the second, and he rested his chin on John's shoulder. His hands slipped out of John's as his arms circled his middle, pulling him closer. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

John lifted his good hand and rested it over Sherlock's. "I'm alright, Sherlock. I'm used to slower healing times."

Sherlock didn't feel reassured by this, but said nothing, instead just absorbing the warmth that he had come to associate with John. He wanted to savour every moment, since he wasn't guaranteed to have John forever. Those damn questions.

"I should get the tea," John said after a moment, then detangled himself from Sherlock. He grabbed two mugs and some tea bags for the two of them. "Are you hungry?"  
Sherlock shrugged. "You know me," he said with a small smile.

John just rolled his eyes fondly, and handed him a mug with hot water and a tea bag. "I didn't feel like breaking out the tea leaves, so you get a bag." He kept his own mug on the counter while he made some toast and eggs for himself.

Sherlock picked up the bag by the string. He hadn't ever seen tea like that before. "Interesting. Actually, rather ingenious." He turned it over once before putting it in the mug. "And here people say that Muggles don't have good ideas."

John chuckled. "I'll give you a box, if you like," he said, glancing back at Sherlock. When his toast popped up, he put it on a plate and set it down across from him.

Sherlock stole a piece of the toast, nibbling at the corner. "I'll have to hide it with my mobile," he said.

"Anything I give you, you'll have to hide," John pointed out.

"Mm..." Sherlock watched John as he finished up his eggs and then sat down to eat. He looked regularly spent, and it was easy to see that it wasn't just that he'd had a late night. The circles under his eyes were just as bad as they were during the school year. Summer holiday was supposed to be about relaxing, yet John was working as hard as ever.

John seemed unaware of Sherlock studying him as he ate. "I took the next couple of days off," he said. "Since you said you'd be here, I wanted to spend my time with you."

Sherlock grinned, feeling a little bit better because of that. At least John could relax. "Good. Saves me the trouble of following you to work and whatever else." Not to mention he had John all to himself. If only it could always be that way.

"My folks are away on their own vacation and Harry is who knows where," he added before sipping his tea. "So really, it will be just you and I. Your parents and Mycroft have no idea where you went, right?"

"Not a clue," Sherlock assured him. "I destroyed all evidence of your address and left before they awoke. My bedroom is also closed and locked. I do get into the habit sometimes of locking myself away for days and not speaking. They'll never know the difference."

John chuckled just a bit. "That sounds like you." He finished up his plate and then stood to put all the dishes in the sink. "So, what would you like to do?" he asked, turning back to Sherlock.

"Well, this is your house, your territory. What do you want to show me?" Sherlock asked.

"You can explore the whole house if you want," John said with a little smirk.

Sherlock matched the expression. "You'll probably have to explain a lot. I hope that you're up for it."

"I already have to explain things," John pointed out. "I think I can handle it." He nudged Sherlock gently with his elbow.

Sherlock smiled and then stood up next to him, extending a hand. "Shall we then?"

John took his hand happily. "I have half a mind to go back to bed," he teased. "I don't get days off very often. I intend to relax a bit."

"I agree," Sherlock said earnestly. "You work too hard. Perhaps we should save the tour of the house for later."

"No, Sherlock, no. I don't want you to have to sit around and wait for me while I sleep," John said, though his whole body seemed like it was rebelling against him. His very being exuded exhaustion.

"It's perfectly fine," Sherlock insisted. "Your health is important to me." Then he got an idea, one that made his face turn a light shade of pink. "Is your bed big enough for two?"

John looked up at him and his own cheeks flushed. "I-It is... Are you going to come lie with me?" he asked.

"If you'd like me to," Sherlock said, biting his lip. "If you think it's too strange we don't-"

"Come on," John said, cutting him off. He tugged Sherlock's hand as he headed upstairs.

Sherlock smiled a little when John seemed to like the idea, and he followed him up the stairs. They went down the hall and into the room at the very end. John's room. It was neat and tidy. His Hogwarts trunk was sitting under the window, books stacked on top (some Muggle some magical). An owl's cage hung near the open window, empty at the moment. Hamlet was probably outside playing. The desk had a strange device on it, along with so many other books and papers.

As Sherlock took in his surroundings, and all of John's unfamiliar Muggle things, he was itching to explore, to touch and examine. But he knew John was tired. He could wait, or he would at least make himself wait.

"I'll teach you how to use a computer later," John said as he crawled into his bed, having noticed the way that Sherlock was amazed by his simple things.

Sherlock climbed in next to him, face still healthily flushed. "Computer. That's one of those magic box things you were explaining once, yes?"

"It's the thing on my desk," John clarified as he yanked the blanket over them, he wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and held him close.

"Ah, that." Sherlock moved in, tucking John's head under his chin. "Well, we've got a few days. For now sleep." His arm came up around John's shoulders. It just seemed so natural, once they broke down the first barrier. Sherlock found himself wishing that they'd done this sooner.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before John was fully asleep, snuggled close to him. Sherlock, of course, didn't sleep, instead just watching John and listening to his breathing. He ran his fingers through John's hair, smiling. He really cared deeply for this boy, in spite of everything. Somehow, he had to make sure he stayed in the wizarding world.

_.~.OMWF.~._

A few hours later John finally woke up. Already he looked more alert and the bags under his eyes had lessened. Sherlock smiled down at him as he stirred. "Hello, sleepy," he said.

"Hello." John smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Sherlock gladly returned it, a healthy flush warming his cheeks. "I'm glad that you're here," he murmured when they broke apart.

Heart fluttering, Sherlock said, "I'm quite glad to be here." He tightened his arms around John, holding him securely to his chest. How wonderful it felt, just to hold John like this, to be close to him. "You know, I think we should just stay like this," he said after moment's silence.

John smiled. "Just like this? I'd have to agree with that." He nuzzled his face into Sherlock's neck, and a tingle went down the taller boy's spine. "I'll make us dinner tonight," he said.

"Well, if it's as good as your hot chocolate then I can't wait," Sherlock said with a grin.

John chuckled. "I hope it will be. I have been cooking for myself for a while," he told him.

Sherlock wasn't very surprised. The way that John's family seemed to be, it made sense that he was on his own for meals a lot of the time. If it wasn't for the house elves, he probably would have been cooking for himself at home too. "I don't know how you do it," he said to John. "Everything that you do, with what you go through, and yet you still smile all the time."

John's smile weakened just a little. "I can't let it get me down, Sherlock. It's life. Things will always get better."

Sherlock just shook his head. "You are...amazing."

"I'm just me," John said, blushing in embarrassment.

"And you," Sherlock said, poking John's nose. "Are amazing."

The blonde laughed lightly and kissed Sherlock's neck. "Whatever you say, Sherlock."

They laid there for a moment, Sherlock listening to John's quiet breaths and moving his fingers along John's spine. It may have been Sherlock's imagination, but John felt a bit thinner than usual. He would have to watch out for his eating habits over the next few days. John was working too hard all for the sake of Muggles when he could just be magical. He just didn't understand why he couldn't stay. Why...

Just then it hit him and he looked down at John. "Why?" he said. "Is one of the questions a 'why' question?"

John looked up, at first not realising what he meant, but then smiling. "Two down."

Sherlock smirked. "I'm on fire. But tell me, what's the whole question?"

The smaller boy sighed, almost like he was afraid of the answer. "Why me?"

Sherlock laughed a little. That was the silliest question he had ever heard. "I could ask the same thing of you." He buried his face in John's hair. "You're the only person who's ever given me a chance," he said quietly. "And then you're also you, so that helps."

John chuckled softly, and the sound was tinted with relief. "You didn't push me away. You could have."

"I could have, but I didn't want to. I was intrigued by you because you were different." Sherlock pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I was different, hm?" John eyed Sherlock with a wide grin. "Good to know it's different that catches your attention."

"Of course. Similarity makes things dull." His lips twitched up at one end.

John laughed at that. He smiled and kissed Sherlock's neck again, making him shiver. "Did you perform experiments on the paper?"

"You know me so well," Sherlock teased.

"I've been friends with you for almost a year now and your boyfriend for nearly a month," John said against Sherlock's neck.

Boyfriend. He liked that word. John was his boyfriend, _his _John. "That is true."

"Oh, I should show you the computer!" John said excitedly. He got up and went to retrieve his laptop, returning to the bed to climb in next to Sherlock. They spent some time looking at it together, John showing Sherlock the various things that he could do with it. Needless to say, for something that had nothing to do with magic, Sherlock was quite impressed.

"While you're here, you can use this whenever you want," John said when he'd pretty much covered everything.

"I'm sure it will come in handy while you sleep," Sherlock said, smiling.

"Yes, of course," John said with a chuckle. "That and your mobile."

"I'm sure you'd rather that than me getting into mischief around your house." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and kissed him on the cheek.

John just smiled fondly at Sherlock. "Want to take a trip into Muggle London? I have a car."

"A car?" Sherlock asked, the word foreign to him. "Have you mentioned those before?" He searched around in his mind palace for anything that had to do with the word car, but came up blank.

"It's a horseless carriage," John explained. "We can take it anywhere."

"Oh. That sounds brilliant!" Sherlock beamed, his curiosity and excitement piqued.

"Well, I'll just take a quick shower and then we can go," John said, getting up from the bed.

Sherlock smiled and took the laptop into his lap. "I suppose I'll explore this a bit more," he said to John, who just rolled his eyes.

"Just don't break anything." With that he left the room. Sherlock watched him go, and then turned to the laptop. He was really enjoying this, even just lying in bed together. Anything was better than being trapped at home with his family. And it gave John the chance to finally take a break, which made him that much happier.

_.~.OMWF.~._

Sherlock was still on John's laptop when he returned. He didn't look up until he heard John rummaging through his drawers, but when he did the sight that caught his eyes made him blush scarlet. John only had a towel around his waist, hair wet and tousled from a quick hand run through it. Once John had a fresh set of clothes in his hands he turned around, catching Sherlock staring with a smile. "Yes?"

It took him a moment before he was able to form words. "Uh, I...You're..." Coherent sentences, Sherlock, come on. "Have a nice shower?"

John chuckled. "I did. Are you okay?" He shimmed into his boxers and pants without even losing the towel, a feat that Sherlock found amazing and he was actually thankful for. Now if only he would cover that lean, Quidditch-toned body.

"I'm...fine." The dark-haired boy swallowed. "Just fine."

John pulled on a shirt and hung the towel over the door of his wardrobe. Sherlock was still blushing, but it was fading now that he was covered up. "Come on then. Let's be off."

"Right. Let's go." Sherlock closed John's laptop and got up, grabbing John's hand. Once the blonde had slid his trainers on and grabbed his things, he led them out to the garage.

When they got there, John pushed a button, and the wall started to lift from the ground. Sherlock watched with wide eyes, never having seen such magic. John just smiled, enjoying the fact that he could impress his boyfriend so easily here in the Muggle world. He brought Sherlock to the car, opening the passenger door for him and instructing him on how to put the seat belt on.

They pulled out of the garage and onto the street. Sherlock watched in awe as John simply pushed buttons or turned knobs and things happened. The car could play music that seemed to come from the air and could control the temperature. "This is incredible! How fast can it go?"

"Fairly fast, but I'm not pushing to the max," John said as he headed down the street towards the heart of the city. There weren't cities in the wizarding world like the ones in the Muggle world. Here there were endless blocks of tall buildings and shops, cars moving back and forth on the street, people rushing by all dressed in Muggle clothes. Now Sherlock had an idea about what it must be like for Muggles who go to the wizarding world for the first time. He felt like he didn't belong there.

John drove around until he found a decent place to park. "We'll go to the Tower of London, it's supposedly haunted, I've never been there." He unbuckled himself and got out of the car.

Sherlock scoffed a bit. "I doubt any ghosts here could be worse than the ones at Hogwarts," he said, struggling slightly with the seat belt.

John rolled his eyes fondly, helping Sherlock out and taking his hand when he was finally standing. "It's still a spectacular sight. And there's so much history."

"Tell me some. Though it probably won't mean much to me," Sherlock said as they walked.

John grinned, starting to tell Sherlock animatedly about the history of Britain. Sherlock was only half-interested really. He just enjoyed hearing John talk with such energy and enthusiasm.

_.~.OMWF.~._

By the end of the day, they had visited not only the Tower of London, but also some small shops on a nearby street, and a museum. Sherlock was so tuckered out that by the time John started the car, he was already dozing off in his seat. He was curled up, knees drawn to his chest, head leaning on the window. Of course, Sherlock hadn't meant to sleep, but it had been a few days so he was due for a nap, and all the extra activity only helped to drain him.

When they made it back home, John parked the car and then leaned over to shake Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock." He started, "We're back at my house."

Sherlock whined a little, but opened his eyes slowly. He saw John and remembered that he wasn't at home, that they had just spent the whole day together, and he smiled. He rubbed his eyes and stretched himself out before getting out of the car.

They made their way inside, and John went straight to the kitchen to start cooking dinner. Having had just the right amount of sleep for a power nap, Sherlock was awake enough to sit at the kitchen table, watching John work. The blonde moved around the kitchen skillfully, motions smooth, even with his injured arm. He could do this forever, spend days with John just having fun and nights watching him cook and then cuddling together on the couch or in bed. Unfortunately, he had to keep reminding himself that things couldn't stay this way forever.

Sherlock made sure not to show what he was thinking on his face when John turned around to serve him. He just smiled and took the plate of...well, he wasn't sure what it was. "What is this?"

"It's called Yorkshire pudding. It's pretty easy to make." John said.

Sherlock nodded slowly, taking an experimental bite. Then he smiled as the warm, homey taste filled his mouth. "I like it."

"I'm glad," John said with a smile. "I know Muggle food has some different flavours and ideas for food.

"It's wonderful," Sherlock promised, and continued eating. His boyfriend gave him one last happy look before digging into his own. The dark-haired boy finished before John and watched him eat, chin propped on his hands. "What made you decide to be a doctor?" he asked. "There are other professions where you can help people. Why that?"

John looked up from his supper, face neutral now, but there was a slight conflict in his eyes. "Because I..." he started. "I just feel that..." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sherlock, it's complicated."

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

John was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I volunteered at a hospital last summer, before I made the decision to live in the Muggle world. I encountered a soldier who was badly injured. He was begging for God to let him live, no doctor was listening. I just wanted to help him, but no idea how..."

"Oh." Sherlock looked down at his plate. Just the way John talked about it, the look on his face, told him that the incident had really affected him. He himself had never really had the desire to help a stranger before, or even anyone for that matter. But John was different. John had a big heart and cared about people, no matter who. It still didn't explain why he chose to help Muggles over wizards and witches, but he wasn't going to push it when John seemed upset about talking about it. "I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it," he said. He reached across the table and took John's hand.

John looked up and then squeezed Sherlock's hand with a tiny smile. "Thank you."

Sherlock smiled back, and easily changed the subject, talking about what he had found on the internet while John had showered until he had finished eating.

When they were both done, Sherlock helped John do the dishes so he wouldn't wet his cast and then John pulled him into the living room. "Let's watch some telly."

"Telly. Another glowing box, right?"

"Something like that." John chuckled. "It's almost like the paintings at Hogwarts..."

"Moving talking pictures," Sherlock concluded and John gave a little shrug. They sat on the sofa and he pulled John in with an arm around his waist. The blonde shifted to curl up next to Sherlock, head on the others' shoulder. "Comfy?" Sherlock asked with a smile.

"Very," John answered easily. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, lighting up the screen just as the laptop had done. Just like he'd said, people started to move and talk to each other, and when John pushed a button on the remote, the picture would change to something completely different. He finally stopped on a picture of two people talking to each other in the back of a car. "Do they know we can hear them?" Sherlock asked quietly, as if he would disturb them at normal volume.

"No. This works just like a regular wizarding camera," John explained. "You take the picture and it can be viewed over and over." They then started to watch, but every now and then Sherlock came up with another question about how this all worked. John was more than happy to answer him, and by the end of the night, Sherlock had a pretty good understanding of Muggle television.

However, he still didn't seem to grasp the concept that they couldn't hear what he was saying, as he continually shouted at the characters on screen when he thought they were doing something stupid. "Don't be daft, it was the driver! You're letting him get away!"

John found himself paying more attention to Sherlock than to the programme itself. Spending this time with Sherlock, watching telly, even with Sherlock yelling at the screen...It was amazing. He could feel his heart swelling with happiness.

When the programme ended, Sherlock turned to John. "That was infuriating and exciting at the same time. The people who make these stories are clever."

"That's Muggles for you," John said with a grin, looking up at Sherlock. They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before John reached up, kissing him. Sherlock kissed back without hesitation, arms winding around John's middle as the blonde pressed a little closer. Their lips started to move in unison, grinding gently together.

John let out a soft groan and parted his lips just a bit. Sherlock was learning fast, just by imitation. The dark-haired boy gasped lightly and parted his lips as well, face heating up quickly. John took the opportunity to slide his tongue out, just running it across Sherlock's lips. This made his boyfriend tentatively poke his own tongue out, brushing John's lower lip before making a quick retreat.

Shivering and suddenly finding that it was now almost impossible to breath, John pulled away and gasped in air. Sherlock opened his eyes at the loss of contact and looked down at John, a little worried. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked breathily.

"Not at all," John assured him, still panting lightly. "I just need to remember how to breath."

"Oh...Right." Sherlock had a healthy flush and glanced into his lap. "That was...really nice."

John smiled, face a bit red too. "We can do that whenever you want," he said.

Sherlock glanced up, a shy smile on his face. They'd never kissed like that before, and he was very glad that John wanted to do it again. "I'll be sure to take you up on that," he said, tugging John in a bit closer. He closed his eyes, letting his chin rest in John's hair, and thought back to the kiss. John knew what he was doing, that much was obvious even to an amateur like himself. He must have had girlfriends before. Or maybe boyfriends? He didn't really know much about John's romantic history. "Have you always liked boys?" he asked.

"Third question," John told him, and he could hear the smile in his tone. Sherlock mentally praised himself for coming up with another of the questions, without even trying. "I've only dated women before, but I'm pretty open to anything. I like people for who they are, regardless of their gender. What about you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I myself haven't ever really had interest in relationships. I don't know either way what I prefer. But that doesn't matter because I have you."

John moved his head out from under Sherlock's chin to look up at him. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Their deep blue was mixed with happiness and uncertainty. "Halfway through the questions," he murmured.

Sherlock nodded, unsure what else to say. John then yawned and snuggled his head back into Sherlock's chest, not wanting to think too much about the future. Not when they had right now.


	8. Chapter 8

Gooood morning my dears! Here's another chapter for you, fresh from the oven XD

So, things seem to be looking up, but I wouldn't be too happy just yet. Things are going to get worse before they get better, so I hope you're ready for some angst ;]

Anyway, I don't have much else important to tell you guys so I'll leave it at that. Please follow sxs-fanfics for updates. And I hope that you read, review, and enjoy this chapter as much as the rest of them. Thanks for all the faves and follows so far, they really mean a lot to me ^^ And with that, I shall let you get to reading. See you next week! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

John was flying high with Sherlock here. He was happy and smiling, more than he had in months. He didn't want these few days to end, but both of them knew it was an impossible dream. It was bothering Sherlock a lot more than he was letting on to be truthful, especially one morning when he woke up to find himself alone in bed. John wasn't in the room, and the space next to him was cold. Normally this wouldn't have such an impact but...he realised that this was how it was going to be for the rest of the summer. Waking up alone, trapped with his miserable family. Even when they went back to school there was only so much they could do. He'd grown so accustomed to living with John in just a short time, and soon it would be over. Soon...John would go to the Muggle world.

Sherlock got up and shuffled downstairs to the living room. John was sitting on the sofa in just his sleep pants. A sudden burst of impulsiveness took over and he went straight for the spot next to his boyfriend, pulling him in so that John was laying on top of him. Sherlock buried his face in John's hair, closing his eyes. He couldn't stand the thought of being apart.

"Sherlock?" John said quietly, surprised by the dark-haired boy's quick movements. "What's wrong?" He wrapped his arms around the other boy. Deep down he did know what was bothering him. "I don't want you to go either..." But then his mind tried to rationalise, to make him feel better about it. This was really just a high from the new relationship and being together for a few days. The pain at the idea of being separated from Sherlock would fade, it was the proper medical response.

So why, then, did he want to saw screw the questions and just ask Sherlock straight out to live with him in the Muggle world? He swallowed the lump in his throat. No. He couldn't. He didn't want to seem desperate, or to make Sherlock do something that he didn't want to. It would be too hard for him to leave what he knew, and he just couldn't expect that from him.

Sherlock, meanwhile, had stayed silent. He just wanted to stay exactly as they were, to not think at all about what was going to happen in a short time. He tilted John's face up to kiss him and the blonde didn't protest. It was nothing but gentle movements of lips, savouring every last sensation.

John was the one to finally break the kiss, panting as he pulled away. "Sherlock..."

Said boy looked into the other's eyes, trying to say what he had trouble putting words to. But when John said nothing, he spoke. "Why are you making me play a game to try to keep you?"

John blinked at Sherlock, then his eyes softened. "Keep me..." Then he chuckled a little, turning away slightly. "When you put it that way, it sounds rather silly..." He disentangled himself from Sherlock and then stood. Sherlock sat up more, but stayed on the couch, watching John.

"I guess I started it to keep you interested. But now I see that's a moot point." He turned around so that his back was facing Sherlock. "But now...The truth is, there's something I want to ask you that I'm just too terrified to ask."

Sherlock got up, moving to stand behind John. "You don't have to be scared. It's just a question." He put a hand on John's shoulder. "Please, John."

"But it could tear us apart," John said, moving away from Sherlock to sit on the couch again. The taller boy merely laughed but there was no mirth behind it.

"At this rate we'll be apart anyway."

They were facing each other, Sherlock now standing, John sitting, their gazes locked as John struggled to put to voice what he had been fearing the answer to for months now. Finally he let out a shaky breath. "Sherlock," he whispered. "Come with me."

Sherlock blinked. "Where?"

"When I leave Hogwarts..." But John already felt like he knew the answer. He bowed his head, waiting for Sherlock to say that he was stupid for ever thinking that he would give up his life of magic to be with plain old John Watson.

But in the next moment, Sherlock was kneeling in front of him, and put both of his hands on John's. He smiled, and leaned up to kiss him.

Taken aback, John waited until Sherlock pulled away to speak, voice wary with uncertainty. "Is that a yes?"

Sherlock just beamed at him. "Don't ask stupid questions, John."

"Sherlock..."

"I can still be an Auror in the Muggle world. They have lots of them stationed there just in case."

"You really want to?" John asked again, still in disbelief. "You would come with me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes fondly. "If I must state it plainly, so be it. John Watson, I wish to come with you to the Muggle world."

That was when it finally clicked in John's head, even though it was still spinning in shock. He smiled brightly and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck. "Wonderful!"

Sherlock laughed and hugged John back tightly. "Was that so terrible?" he teased.

"No," John admitted softly. "But I was so nervous."

"You really thought I might say no," Sherlock said, not a question. He pulled back and looked into John's eyes. "John, these last few days have been wonderful and I always want it to be this way. In case you haven't noticed, you are very important to me, and I would do anything to make sure I don't lose you."

John was rendered speechless. He was touched by the pure emotion in Sherlock's words, when he usually had trouble expressing such things aloud. He finally nodded, smiling more softly this time. "Your family won't like it."

"Bugger my family," Sherlock said. "They don't like many of the things I do, but I still do them."

John chuckled, and then settled against Sherlock's shoulder. "We're going to stay together..."

Sherlock tightened his arms around John. Yes. They would stay together forever. He was over the moon. But there were still two things he wanted to know. "What were the other two questions?"

John looked up, hesitating. "One...Do you want to go with me to the ball?" He chewed his lip waiting for the answer.

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "We are boyfriends. I thought that that would be a given. Don't all couples go together automatically?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess." John flushed and then looked down. He really should have more faith in Sherlock. "I can't ask the other one. Not yet." Sherlock looked at him curiously, but didn't press it further. When the time was right, he was sure that John would tell him. For now he would just relish in the fact that they could be, would be, together.

_.~.OMWF.~._

The rest of the summer went by with exchanged letters and imagined kisses. There was an attempt to meet at Diagon Alley when it came time to buy supplies for the next year, but that was thwarted by John not being able to get a day off of work when Sherlock was going. So they continued to hold out, waiting for the first of September when they could meet again on the train.

This time around Sherlock was a bit behind schedule, so when he got onto the train, he started at the very front and worked his way back, looking into every compartment to find his boyfriend, Yorick draped over his shoulder. Finally, towards the back, he saw the familiar blonde head of hair, and his heart flipped in excitement. He opened the door and, with a smile, said, "Is this seat taken?"

John looked up from where he was reading a Muggle text book. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock sat next to him and wrapped his arms around the other boy. "I've missed you, John."

"I missed you, too," John said, face pressed to Sherlock's neck. They pulled back after a moment, leaving just their hands together, fingers intertwined. "How are you?"

"Lovely, now that I'm with you," Sherlock said, pressing into John's side.

"How was the rest of your summer?"

"Dull, annoying. Did I mention dull?" Sherlock turned to John and grinned. "And you?"

"Busy, busy..." John said, as if it wasn't anything new. "I'm done with my Muggle secondary schooling now."

"Really? That's great!" Sherlock kissed him on the cheek. "Perhaps you'll get a bit more sleep this year."

John grinned. "That's the plan."

Sherlock sighed, resting his cheek in John's hair. "I haven't been able to sleep well since I left your house," he said. "It's just not the same without you."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand lightly. "Get some sleep now. I'll wake you when it's time to change."

Sherlock didn't really want to sleep, but now that he was in John's presence, he felt a warm drowsiness take over. He smiled softly at him. "Thank you." He closed his eyes and almost instantly was asleep.

John moved to wrap an arm around Sherlock, holding him against his side as he slept. He was so glad to be back with Sherlock again, and to know that from now until June they had more opportunities to see each other. It was the reason he'd finished all his Muggle work; he wanted to have as much free time between Qudditch and magical homework to spend more time with his boyfriend.

For the whole of the ride, Sherlock slept quietly, his cat curled into his lap, and John watching over him. When he finally awoke it was to the other boy's voice calling his name. He blinked rapidly, then smiled when he saw his boyfriend next to him. "I missed that."

John smiled and gave him a gentle kiss. "Me too. Come on, it's time to get changed." He pulled away to get changed into his school robes. Sherlock did the same, only just realising that this would be the last time they had to do this. It didn't seem so long ago that he had done this for the first time. After this year, they started their real lives.

"Our last Start of the Year feast," John mused after a moment, as if he had read his thoughts.

"Yes. Our last everything." Sherlock couldn't help feeling just a tad bit sentimental. After all, Hogwarts was more of a home to him than his parent's house.

"But the end only leads to a new beginning," John pointed out, smiling.

Sherlock smiled. "You're right. A new beginning together."

John moved in to kiss him, and Sherlock didn't hesitate to return it. He wound his arms around John's waist, holding him steady while the train rocked them.

When they pulled back, Sherlock smirked a bit. "I wonder what kind of looks we're going to get."

"The Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team dating the Ravenclaw outcast," John said with a grin. "It will cause a stir."

"Not to mention the fact that I'm a boy. I'll bet most everyone expected you to be straight," Sherlock added.

John nodded. "I've only gone on a few dates with the girls in my year," he told him. "Never once really looked at a boy. So this will no doubt come as a shock to ninety percent of the school's population."

Sherlock only grinned. "Sounds like fun."

"Sounds normal for you," John teased.

"Shut up." Sherlock bent down to kiss John again.

_.~.OMWF.~._

When the train finally stopped at Hogsmeade station, Sherlock and John were still kissing. They reluctantly pulled away, knowing that within moments they would be stepping off to head to school for their last year. Sherlock squeezed John's hand as they got their trunks together, Yorick once again on his shoulder. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Sherlock gave his hand another reassuring squeeze and they made their way off of the train together.

As they stepped onto the platform, Sherlock got a bit nervous. What would everyone say when they saw the two of them together? Would they ridicule him and John? Would they just stare silently as they had when they were first friends?

John however, seemed perfectly fine. He called out to some of his housemates as they headed towards the carriages, raising his free hand to wave. And his friends? They just smiled back, some of them rolling their eyes. As if they had been waiting for it to happen. Only a few of them looked surprised.

Sherlock was perhaps the most surprised, though, at those reactions. "Interesting."

John looked up at him and smiled. "I guess it was more obvious than we thought." They both chuckled a bit, climbing into a carriage together. It started off, the invisible thestrals pulling them up to the castle.

"You'll have to sit at your House table for the feast," John said.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "I suppose you're right. But can we have breakfast tomorrow then?"

"Of course we can," John promised.

"Excellent," Sherlock said, face brightening. The carriage continued on, rattling up to the school. John had his head on Sherlock's shoulder for the ride, the Ravenclaw's arm around his waist, quietly enjoying his boyfriend. He wanted to savour every moment. They would only have so many before he'd be off to Muggle uni.

"So, an Auror?" he murmured after a little. "It suits you."

"You think so?" Sherlock asked, looking down at him.

"Mhm."

"Why though? Aurors aren't usually the sit-by-themselves-and-read-a-book type."

John chuckled. "You may do that now, but I don't think you will forever. Your mind goes far too fast to just allow you to sit."

"Well, you're right about that," Sherlock said, grinning. "The action of Auror life is what drew me to it. Never a dull moment." Just thinking about it sparked his eyes with excitement.

"Very you," John repeated before pulling away. The carriages had just arrived outside of the school. He gave Sherlock a quick kiss, knowing that once they got out, he would be swept away by his friends. And sure enough, when they stepped out, it was only a moment before he wrapped up in talking with old friends, dormmates and the potential Quidditch team members. He was back to being John Watson, star of Gryffindor.

Sherlock let him go, of course, making his way into the castle alone. They were further separated once in the Great Hall, heading to their respective House tables. Back to the way things were first day the year before. The first day of every year. One or two of his housemates did look at him, with less disdain than they used to. He supposed this was partially because he was a seventh year now so there was no one to look down on him, and perhaps his reputation had improved a bit from being friends with John. That didn't mean, however, that he wasn't still Sherlock Holmes, freak of Ravenclaw. No one spoke to him.


	9. Chapter 9

Happy Monday! :D Here's another chapter for you all. There's a little bit of angst and some tension, but I promise by the end that everything will work out for our boys.

So, I don't have much else to tell you guys, and thus I will let you get onto your reading. Please don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr to get updates when I post. Check out my other stories on deviantART, because this week I'm posting the epilogue of You're The One and so you can read the whole thing in one go if you like. And I'll see you next week! Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

It was a few months into the term when Sherlock found John sitting by the lake, book open in his hand, and an enchanted quill writing on a floating piece of parchment as he dictated an essay. Even with all his Muggle schoolwork done, Sherlock almost always found his boyfriend busy doing something, and he was rather busy himself. It seemed that now that they were at their highest level, it was harder even for him to keep ahead of the game. Still, he was faced with more free time than John usually was, and it was frustrating sometimes when the other boy wasn't available. That was why Sherlock contented himself with just sitting with John as he did whatever he needed to. It was better than nothing.

"Don't work too hard, John," he said, sitting down next to him.

John looked up and smiled at Sherlock. "Pause," he said to the quill. "I'm not. It's due next week, so I'll have a free weekend."

Sherlock immediately perked at that. "Really?" That was a rarity these days, and it was good not only for their relationship, but for John in general. He was always working so hard, it was a wonder that he hadn't just collapsed. He needed, deserved, a break every now and then.

"Yep," John said with a grin. "I wanted to be able to finally spend some time together. I know things have been a bit hard lately..."

"It's fine, John," Sherlock lied. Well, it was only a white lie. He did understand why John was doing what he was doing. The stubborn Gryffindor had a plan, goals, and he was going to do whatever he had to do to get them done. That didn't mean that Sherlock was completely happy about it, but what could he do? John was impossible to argue with.

John smiled at him, not seeming to notice the internal struggle. "Resume," he spoke to the quill and it prepared itself to write again. The blonde then went right back to dictating his essay. Sherlock made himself comfortable. He knew they'd be here for a while.

_.~.OMWF.~._

That weekend, Sherlock found himself outside the Gryffindor common room at noon, just as they had planned. He knew the password to get in if he wanted to, but he didn't use it, knowing that he would only get more looks than he cared to receive for being in Lion territory. So he waited patiently for John to come down. One minute. Two minutes. Five...When he checked his watch, finding that ten minutes had passed, he figured that John was just busy finishing up some work. When twenty minutes went by he thought maybe he should go in and check, but he knew that if something bad was happening that things wouldn't be so quiet. At half an hour...he wondered if maybe John had forgotten.

The portrait door suddenly swung open, and lo and behold, John stepped through. But he stopped short when he saw Sherlock, and his eyes widened just a fraction. Anyone else would have missed it. Anyone who wasn't Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock...how long have you been out here?" he asked, as nonchalantly as he could.

Sherlock tried to ignore the look on his face, the fact that he knew that John was thinking about what he was planning on doing, only just realising that he was supposed to be meeting Sherlock for a date. Maybe even trying to think of a way out. He smiled faintly. "Just a few minutes. Are you ready to go?"

There was a slight hesitation, and then John gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. Yeah, um, where are we going?"

Sherlock could feel the sting, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. John had forgotten about him. "I thought we could go to Hogsmeade. Haven't been in a while." He paused, cleared his throat, looking down as he spoke. "Um, John...If you have something else you need to do..."

"No, no! Sherlock..." John took his hands, looking up into his face from his shorter vantage point. "There's nothing more important than spending time with you." He smiled, stronger this time, and leaned up to kiss him. "Come on, let's go."

Sherlock kissed John back, but he wasn't convinced. It was a lie, they both knew. He knew that John cared about him, but sometimes he wondered whether or not it would be a relief for him if they weren't together. If he didn't have the obligation of having to spend time with Sherlock and take away from all the work he had to do.

John led them down and out of the castle, taking the path to the always-snowy village. Many other students were already there and they glanced over at Sherlock and John as they walked by. They went to the Three Broomsticks first, the extra chill of the day's weather requiring the warmth of butterbeer. They sat at a small table in the corner and ordered their drinks, and a silence ensued. But it was unlike other silences between them before. This one was tense with unspoken words, broken promises, and feelings just hidden below the surface.

Finally John looked down at the table at his hands which were clasped together, thumbs fidgeting. "I won't stop being busy when I go to Uni. I'll be working twice as hard."

Sherlock, of course, knew this already. It was obvious, really. If John was so swamped with Muggle work in secondary school, why should the next level up be any easier.

"Sherlock," John said, looking up again and directly into his bright blue eyes. "I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but I do care about you. Very much. You're the most important person in my life. I just..."

Sherlock shook his head. "I get it, John. You don't have to explain it to me."

"I do!" John said, sounding frustrated. "I shouldn't be neglecting you. You don't deserve that."

"You're busy..." Sherlock said. As if that made everything alright.

John reached over and put his hand on Sherlock's. "I'm going to try harder. The last thing I want is to make you feel like you're not a priority in my life. I swear, I'll do better."

Sherlock stared into John's eyes when he was finished, that deep blue that so easily displayed everything he was feeling. And right now, he found the same sincerity he used to see in the early days of their friendship. He smiled a little.

"I know you will," he said, sliding his fingers in between John's. John just smiled back at him, seeming both relieved and relaxed now that they had avoided a bump in the road. He squeezed Sherlock's hand just as their drinks arrived, and they spent the rest of their day as if they didn't have a care in the world.

_.~.OMWF.~._

He wasn't going to wait any longer. It had already been almost an hour. He looked even more like a freak than usual, sitting alone at a table in the corner of the Great Hall, dressed in brand new robes just for the occasion, flicking his wand at the corsage he'd conjured up to make it wilt and bloom again. He left it wilted and then stood, storming out of the room to the sound of some wizard band that he didn't know melting into the voices and feet of all the students at Hogwarts. Well, all except for one.

Sherlock wiped furiously at his eyes as he went back to Ravenclaw tower, heading straight for his room and not even changing before getting into the bed. He pressed his face into the pillow, wondering if maybe it wouldn't be so bad to smother himself.

John had forgotten him again, after all.

_.~.OMWF.~._

The letter was dated 5th June only a few days after they had returned home.

_Sherlock,_

_I know you're mad at me. But you can't stay mad forever._

_John_

Sherlock hadn't spoken to John since the Yule Ball incident. He'd closed himself off, going back to his freak ways of being a complete loner, staying in his room or the library all the time just to avoid people, and especially to avoid John.

It wasn't just the Yule Ball either. There were plenty of other small incidents in between that all culminated in that one night. That one night when Sherlock had been so sure that John would have no choice but to be there because everyone was there, even the Professors. But instead he chose to stay in and write an essay, only coming down to the party after an hour and fifteen minutes, when Sherlock was already long gone.

The next day John had tried to apologise, to explain himself, but Sherlock didn't want to hear it. He was hurt, deeply, for being put last on John's list of priorities. John had promised to be better. He'd only gotten worse.

So he replied to the letter with a short message of his own.

_John,_

_I have nothing more to say on the subject._

_Sherlock_

The next one came a week later.

_It's been months. Can't we please talk about this?_

_I'm done discussing it. I said what I wanted to say._

Sherlock would have thought that that would be the end of their correspondence. He thought that John would give up at some point, especially now that they were apart. He was in the Muggle world, soon heading to Muggle Uni, where he could find a nice Muggle who he wouldn't have to worry about living a double life with. But John was a Gryffindor, and a stubborn one at that.

_Sherlock,_

_I love you._

Really Sherlock shouldn't have forgiven him just based on those three words. But he could see that John wasn't going to give up. And they were a very nice set of words.

_John,_

_The feeling is mutual._

_.~.OMWF.~._

_Sherlock,_

_Sorry, Uni's been a beast. I have a free weekend coming and my dorm mate will be going home that same weekend._

_John_

_John,_

_Just tell me how to get there._

_.~.OMWF.~._

Sherlock Apparated that weekend to a nearby alley and walked out onto the street. This was the first time he'd been in Muggle territory alone, and he tried his best to act like he knew where he was going. It was a bit of a struggle at first, until he used a few discreet directional charms which brought him finally to the university. His heart beat fast at the thought of seeing John again. It had been a while now, what with him busy studying and Sherlock doing Auror training. But now they had a whole two days all to themselves.

He found the dorm building with less difficulty than the campus itself, and went up in the moving box (quite an ingenious Muggle invention) to the floor where John had told him his room was. With a slight flutter of nerves, he knocked on the door. _Please let him have remembered..._

"Harry, if that's you bugging me to go out, I told you no," he heard John's voice on the other side of the door. "I have plans with my...Sherlock..."

There was only a moment's hesitation before they were locked, lip to lip, moving clumsily into the dorm room and closing the door. John pushed him back against it and Sherlock gasped, moaning into his mouth. He felt hands on his hips and John's tongue invading his mouth and it was all sloppy and wonderful. He wrapped his arms around John tightly, desperate to be as close to him as possible, to never let go again.

Finally, when they couldn't breathe anymore, they broke apart, John's forehead pressing against Sherlock's, smiling at him through his raged panting. "Christ I've missed you."

"Mmm...Me too." Sherlock barely opened his eyes as he looked down at John. Much as he hated time away from John, their reunion kisses were always wonderful.

"Come on." John brought him over to the bed and tugged him down so they were laying on their sides, facing each other, as close as they could be while still being able to see the others' face. Neither could quell their smiles. "How's the training going?"

"It's been fine. I'm already ahead of most of the others. Do you remember that Anderson fellow? I've already surpassed him in most of the exercises." Sherlock smirked. "He's rather put out with me."

John laughed. "That's no surprise."

"How is school?" Sherlock asked.

John propped himself on an elbow for a moment to gesture to the desk piled high with books and papers. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at it all and shook his head before they both laid down again. "Always working so hard."

"I have to," John said. "It will pay off in a few years."

"I hope so," Sherlock said. "After all you've been through for the sake of this." All we've been through, he thought.

John smiled weakly. "I'll get through it. I always do." The dark-haired boy knew that he really meant both of them. "Someday, it won't be so hard," he added, with a sort of pleading in his eyes. As if he feared that Sherlock wouldn't stick around long enough to see the end result.

And even though Sherlock knew that any other normal person in a relationship like this would have left already, he knew he couldn't. He loved John too much.


	10. Chapter 10

There is some good angst later on in this chapter, I hope you're ready ;]

Sorry this is late in the day guys. Honestly, it just slipped my mind. I had thought about it in the morning and somehow never did anything about it T_T That seems to be a curse of this story, because it happened once or twice on deviantART as well XD Anyway, it's here now, and I hope that's okay.

Also, I have another story in the works, it's almost three chapters long already, and I'm planning to post it here and on dA at the same time. It's a ghostlock/teenlock, and I really think that you're going to like it because I'm basically writing it from scratch :D So look forward to that soon ^^

And that's pretty much it! Please don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr for updates, and I'll see you next week! There are only two chapters left of this story already D: Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

_Hi, this is John Watson. Can't get to the phone right now so-_

Sherlock hung up before he could hear the end of the recording. Again. He had been trying to get in touch with John for a week now, but it seemed that every time he tried to call, this was what he was faced with. He had half a mind to Apparate to the school and hex John for ignoring him, but he didn't even have the drive. He was just so tired. So...lonely.

_.~.OMWF.~._

"Hello?"

"Oh, you're still alive. Good to know," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Sherlock? It's three in the morning!"

"I'm aware," he said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. He finally decided that if John was too busy during the day, that the only time to guarantee that he would be by his phone and not doing anything would be in the middle of the night.

"Then why are you calling me?" John asked.

"I can't sleep," he lied, although it was partially true.

John sighed, and Sherlock could hear that he was moving around to sit up in his bed. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk to you lately. It's almost time for final exams. The professors are squeezing in everything they can and I have so much work."

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Sherlock, this is as hard for me as it is for you. Do you think I don't want to see you more? I mean, God, I miss you. But I have things that I need to get done."

"I know," Sherlock said, like a child being scolded by his parent.

"It's almost Christmas you know," John said. "I get a full month off from Uni, with no homework or anything."  
Sherlock perked up a bit. "Really?"

"Mhm. And since I don't plan on going home to visit my family, I'm going to be pretty lonely." Sherlock chuckled slightly.

"If only there was someone who could keep you company," he said, finally smiling for the first time in a while.

"My bed's big enough for two."

"What day should I get there?"

_.~.OMWF.~._

The morning of December the 23rd found Sherlock Apparating to John's flat with a loud crack. He looked around as soon as he arrived, expecting John to come running when he heard the sound. But when he spun halfway he saw his boyfriend, lying on his back on the couch, asleep. A book was open across his chest, and one hand was still loose around the bottom of the spine. He hadn't even stirred from the noise.

Sherlock shook his head. Even when he had a break where he didn't have to worry about anything, John was still trying to keep ahead of the game. He knelt down next to the couch, removing the book to the coffee table before giving John a kiss on the forehead.

Now John stirred, making a small noise. His eyes fluttered open and widened at the sight of Sherlock, before crinkling at the corners with a smile. "I was just dreaming about you."

Sherlock smiled softly. "Looks like your dreams just came true."

John reached up and tugged Sherlock to lay on top of him, and the taller boy shimmied down so that his face could press into John's neck. "I missed you," he murmured against the skin, taking in the familiar scent and taste that he couldn't recreate in even his most elaborate dreams. Even with the most powerful spell.

"I missed you, too," John murmured, squeezing him around the waist. He kissed the top of Sherlock's head and let his cheek rest there after.

"One of these days we won't have to say that anymore," Sherlock said.

"I only have a little more than a year. Then I'll be going to medical school," John said quietly. He closed his eyes and yawned.

Sherlock kissed John's neck. "I'm sorry I woke you up. Do you want to finish your nap?"

"That would be nice," John admitted. "Do you mind being my blanket?"

Sherlock chuckled. "It would be my honour, Mr. Watson." He tilted his head up enough to give John a kiss on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," John replied, before nestling back into Sherlock's hair and letting himself drift back to sleep.

_.~.OMWF.~._

"Sherlock! Sherlock! It's Christmas!" John shook his boyfriend, grinning.

Sherlock groaned a little, swiping at him. "Bugger Christmas," he muttered, before having de ja vu. Had it really been so long since their first Christmas?

John laughed and kissed Sherlock's ear. "I bought you a present." In response Sherlock smiled, eyes still closed. He held out a hand. "No, no. You have to get up and out of bed," the blonde said, and Sherlock heard his footsteps heading out of the room.

With a groan, the dark-haired boy forced himself up and out, though he was still smiling faintly. He wrapped himself in his dressing gown and headed out into the kitchen where John was already making tea. "Want some?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Sherlock said, and sat at the table with a yawn. He watched John flit about, making himself some breakfast too in the process. He finally sat down with his plate and slid Sherlock a mug of tea. Then he pulled a box up from under the table and handed that to him as well. "Happy Christmas, love."

Sherlock perked a bit seeing the gift and excitedly unwrapped the box. John's gifts were always thoughtful and special, and he still had each one. Out of all the very few possessions Sherlock still had after selling most of his things to pay for his shoddy flat, those were the most precious.

John watched eagerly as Sherlock opened up the gift. He lifted the lid of the box and inside found books of different shapes and sizes, paper, not parchment, and not a quill but a fountain pen. "They're Muggle science books. They're the ones I used for my classes. I kept the ones that were the most interesting."

Sherlock smiled, pulling out each one, flipping through. Just the diagrams inside were enough to entise him, let alone the fact that it was Muggle science in the first place, something that he'd been wanting to learn for a while now. "This is wonderful, John. Thank you!" He leaned across the table to kiss him. "Stay right here. I have something for you too." He got up from the table and ran into the bedroom. He'd brought his violin, but only now was he bringing it out to play, and a box as well. He handed it to John. "This first."

Inside was a cassette player with a tape already inside. "I know that Muggle technology is far beyond this, but for some reason magic won't work on any of the newest gadgets." He set his violin between his chin and shoulder. "But I managed to record a few of my favourite songs from the wizarding world onto that tape. Along with this." Sherlock put the bow to the strings and started to play a piece that he had written for John.

The whole world seemed to slow down as Sherlock started to play. He closed his eyes, falling into the the spell he usually did when connected to his instrument. The piece had been completely inspired by his feelings for John and he tried to send that emotion through the melody so that he could hear it. The things he couldn't express with words he found easiest to express with music. It lasted for a few minutes before he hit the final note, letting it ring when he was finished.

"Sherlock..." John whispered. But, he didn't have the words, he couldn't _find _the words to express his feelings. That was just beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment, then opened his eyes. "I wrote it myself. About you."

"It's fantastic," John breathed. He got up and went over to Sherlock, taking the violin from him and putting it on the table temporarily so that he could kiss him. Sherlock smiled against his lips and wrapped his now-free arms around John, holding him close. When John pulled back, he looked up his boyfriend with sparkling eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sherlock murmured. "I've missed you so much." He gave him another tender kiss. "When can we live together, John?"

John sighed. "I don't know Sherlock," he said. Then he hesitated. "I..." He swallowed. He hadn't told Sherlock this yet, because he knew that it wasn't going to go over well. "Sherlock, listen. I don't want you to overreact to this."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, looking down at John. "To what?" He looked into John's eyes and saw that he looked guilty. That was not a good sign.

"Sherlock...I got wind that the Army is looking for good doctors and I think I'm going to enlist to go help."

"What?!" Sherlock pushed him back by the shoulders and looked into his face with wide eyes. "The army!?"

"It wouldn't be until I finish my medical degree." John said, "But I want to help. There are good people out there dying."

"And you'll be one of them! John, why do you do this? Don't you care what this is doing to yourself?"

John looked away. He almost seemed ashamed, but there was still a strength in the way he held his shoulders. "I was going to ask you to move in here while I went to medical school... But if you don't want to..."

The words went right over Sherlock's head. "John, please don't do it. Please."

"Did you even hear what I'm asking?" John grabbed his hands. "Move in with me. It'll save you money and we can see each other every day."

It must be said that Sherlock had about as much patience as he could in this situation. He'd bottled up his feelings for years now, and this was the final straw. He just couldn't hold back anymore. "Don't try to distract me, John!" Sherlock snapped. "You're completely selfish!"

"Selfish?" John said, stepping back and frowning. "I'm working myself into the ground to help others and you call that selfish?"

"Yes! Because you don't care how I feel about anything! We hardly see each other, every time we do you look that much closer to an Inferi, and now you want to voluntarily put yourself in an environment where you're likely to get killed! You care more about those stupid Muggles than your own boyfriend! Don't you care what happens to me? Without you..." He swallowed, feeling the sting of hot tears in his eyes. "I don't have anyone without you, John."

John looked just about as close to exploding as Sherlock was mere moments ago. But when he heard Sherlock, his face softened, and he stepped closer again. He put a hand on his boyfriend's cheek, wiping at his eyes gently to remove the tears. "Sherlock, love...I don't care more about them. Not at all. I just..." He shook his head. "It'll only be for a year. I swear. I purposely looked for the shortest enlistment time."

"John..." He knew that there was no convincing him otherwise. This was John Watson, the most determined and stubborn person he knew. A few words weren't going to stop him, even from Sherlock. But why did his determination have to lead him into something so dangerous?

"I want to help them," John said quietly, as if that was an explanation. He looked away from Sherlock again, the weight of his guilt clear in his eyes.

"You can't help everyone," Sherlock said. "You're already helping people by being a doctor. Let some other sod help the people in the army and work in a bloody hospital!"

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock pulled his face up, forcing John to look at him. "At least think about it. _Please._"

Finally John nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."

John met his gaze and for a moment they spoke silently. Sherlock sought the truth of John's feelings, that he really did care about him enough to know how much this was hurting him, imploring him to reconsider. The colour of John's eyes had dimmed considerably since the last time he looked so deeply into them. But somewhere, buried deep in the fatigued blue, there was that old truth that Sherlock had come to accept many a time before. And now was no exception.

Sherlock let his hands drop. He knew that John would never give up on something he'd planned to do and Sherlock wouldn't make him. That was just how things worked between them.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello my darlings! It's time for another chapter. And I'm sad to say, this is the second to last chapter :( But it's been a great run, and I know a lot of people have enjoyed it.

Speaking of people enjoying the story, I suddenly got three reviews last week out of nowhere! So thank you very much to those of you who reviewed. You know who you are (I don't because some of you were anon lol). Please keep them coming even as we wrap up this fic. :D

And that's all for now! Please don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr for updates. Check out MashingButtons on YT. And check out my other stories on deviantART! And I will see you all next week for the final chapter. Love ya!

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

* * *

Sherlock, of course, moved in with John when he graduated Uni, and for the few years he was in medical school, he tried to ignore the fact that with every passing day, they came closer to John's departure. He busied himself with work as an Auror and John was so swamped with school that most of the time they only ate and slept together. There were those rare days that they both had off, and it was on those days that Sherlock felt the best. They reminded him of their simple days in Hogwarts, when the worst they had to worry about was a Potion's essay from Professor Slughorn, or losing the House cup to Slytherin.

Now...Now it had been a few months since John had left, and Sherlock was living alone in their flat. Days were passed in worry that news would come of John's dead body found somewhere in the deserts of Afghanistan. He lived for the monthly video calls they were allowed, really the only time he got any news. No owls flew in or out of the war zone, and of course John wasn't allowed his mobile, so the laptop he'd bought when he moved into the Muggle world was their only real connection.

It was one such of those scheduled days. Sherlock had been staring at the computer for a half an hour, waiting for John, and finally something popped up on the screen reading 'Incoming Call'. He felt his heart doing flips and he chewed his lip as he waited for John's face to appear.

There was a pause where he saw nothing but black, then the webcam kicked in and his boyfriend was there. "Hey." He was smiling, but even through the bad quality connection Sherlock could see bags under his eyes and dirt and cuts on his face. To think that he purposely put himself through this...

"Hi," Sherlock said, and attempted a smile. At least he was sure that John wouldn't be able to see the sadness behind it through the video. "How is everything?"

"Well, I've been awake for nearly 48 hours now. After this call I intend to go crash on the nearest soft surface," he said with a soft chuckle.

"If I was there, I'd let you could crash on me," Sherlock said, tilting his head as he kept his eyes locked with John's picture.

"I wish you were here too," John said, smiling. "But I have some good news. I'm getting leave for Christmas."

Sherlock's eyes widened and for the first time in so long, he felt genuine excitement. "Really?" Christmas was only a month away!

"Mhm. I plan on making you dinner and hot chocolate," he said, his own smile increasing to see Sherlock happy.

"I don't care what you make," Sherlock said, smiling.

John giggled, he was so excited, and then slowed into a silence, just staring at Sherlock. "I miss you, Sherlock," he said softly.

"I miss you too, John." Sherlock put a hand up to touch John's face, but was met with the cold, unfeeling screen. "So very much."

John smiled and lifted his own hand, but then there was a sudden shouting. He looked behind him for a second before turning back to Sherlock. "I have to go. I love you."

Sherlock's brightened mood immediately dissipated. Of course. There was always something. "I love you, too. Be careful."

John smiled faintly and then ended the call, and Sherlock was met with his own face in the black space where his boyfriend had been.

_.~.OMWF.~._

The day that John was supposedly coming home, Sherlock made sure that he had work. Because he knew that if he didn't, all he would do was sit in the flat and wait and he just couldn't stand the idea of counting the seconds that John wasn't there, worrying himself with thoughts of John being hurt, or just having decided that those stupid Muggles needed him more because it was Christmas and they were sick or injured.

So when John arrived, the flat was empty. The soldier set down his bags and looked around. It was obvious that Sherlock hadn't been eating much, as there was little food around, and what was there was mostly untouched. Sherlock also hadn't cleaned in a while, and there were no Christmas decorations. It was almost like the place was unlived in.

John sighed. He knew things were hard for his boyfriend, and that he'd been putting him through a lot. Their conversation back when he'd first told him about joining up still bothered him to this day. He felt like Sherlock constantly doubted where his heart truly lied. Sometimes he even wondered why he made himself do these things. One incident with a soldier in a hospital shouldn't be enough to affect him so deeply that he made his boyfriend suffer through quick visits between years of fearful separation. It was magic in itself that Sherlock stuck by him all this time.

But he kept trying to tell himself that once this was over that that was it. He'd have his medical degree and his magic, and the satisfaction of having done his duty (whatever that was worth in the end). And maybe, if he was lucky enough, he'd still have Sherlock too.

In an attempt to try to make up for just the tiniest bit of his transgressions, John decided that he would surprise Sherlock by doing the housework, decorating, and making dinner. He left to do the shopping, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't be back for a while.

_.~.OMWF.~._

It wasn't until late that night that Sherlock returned. As he approached the door of the flat, he could smell something...heavenly. Something he hadn't smelt in so long that it triggered a forgotten memory from his younger days. Warm chocolate.

Could it be? He opened the door and was met with tinsel-covered tree, with bright twinkling lights dancing on the walls and floating candles in homage to Hogwarts. Stockings were hung on the mantel, and cheery Muggle Christmas music was playing. Did he dare to hope that this was the work of John? He followed his nose to the kitchen.

And there he was, working at the stove and wearing a hat like Father Christmas. Sherlock felt a lump well in his throat, and he ran forward and tackled him.

John toppled to the floor but was laughing. His arms immediately came up to wrap around Sherlock, hugging him tightly. "I'm home," he whispered, "I'm home."

"John..." Sherlock barely managed, his voice choked by tears.

He kissed Sherlock's on the temple. "I know. I've missed you so much. But I'm here now."

Sherlock nodded into his shoulder. "I missed you, too. I really, really missed you." Then, realising they were still on the ground, he moved away enough to allow John to get up and stood himself. John chuckled and turned off the stove.

"I would have cooked dinner, but I spent all day on this," the blonde said, gesturing to the flat.

"It's perfect, John," Sherlock said. "I love it. I love you." He could have done absolutely nothing, and Sherlock would still have been this happy. He was just glad to have John home.

"I love you, too," John said, and leaned in to wrap his arms around Sherlock's waist again, kissing him. Their first kiss since Sherlock left him at the airport that day seven months before. The Auror nearly melted. He felt so much happier than he had thought he would be to see John again. Perhaps it was the bright decorations, or maybe the chocolate. Or maybe he was just glad that John had chosen to come home in the end.

When they pulled away, John caressed Sherlock's cheek lovingly. "Go wash up, I ordered take out."

Sherlock didn't really want to leave, even for a second, but he nodded. He lingered for just a moment, giving John another kiss, and then went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Upon coming back to the kitchen he found John with Chinese set on the table. "How fancy," he teased.

John laughed. "Just sit down and eat, will you? You look like you've been starving yourself again."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat, scooping out a little from each container. They ate mostly in silence, just gazing at each other, as if turning away would make them disappear. When they were finished, John waved his wand and sent the dishes to the sink before bringing over the pot of hot chocolate and two mugs. He gave it a quick reheat and then poured out enough for each of them.

"Thank you," Sherlock said as John passed him the mug, and he cradled it close, just inhaling for a moment before drinking. It still tasted just as perfect as the first time.

John was chewing his lip across the table, staring down at the rich liquid. Finally he lifted his gaze. "Sherlock, I need to ask you something."

Sherlock looked up, a chocolate mustache on his upper lip. "What?"

John stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. Sherlock didn't understand, until he looked down past his nose and saw the brown on his lip. He then giggled, soon bubbling into full laughter himself. They both were clutching their stomachs, enjoying the impromptu guffaw until they were so out of breath that they had to force themselves to stop.

Sherlock finally wiped his lip with a napkin as they settled into shallow, breathy chuckles. "Now...what did you want to ask?"

John shook his head. "Never mind. I'll save it for Christmas."

"What?" Sherlock pouted. "Why bring it up then?"

"To make you squirm with curiosity," John teased.

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest like a child. "No fair. You're a tease, John Watson."

John rolled his eyes fondly. "Oh relax, Christmas is only a day away. You need to learn some patience."

Sherlock let his arms unfold and smiled faintly. That was definitely one thing he'd become an expert in.

They finished off their hot chocolate and John waved the mugs off to the sink before standing up. "Come to bed with me?" he asked, offering a hand to Sherlock. The other man smiled and took it as they made their way to their room. This would be the first time in a while that Sherlock slept in the bed instead of on the sofa. Sometimes he just couldn't bear the fact that the bed was so big.

They laid down facing each other on their sides, both having changed into only sleep pants. Their hands were locked together, noses nearly touching on the pillow.

"Everyone in my regiment asks me who my vid call sessions are with," John said softly.

"You don't tell them?" Sherlock asked.

"No," he said. "Sort of looked down on to be with a man in the army. So I just tell them it's someone incredibly special." Sherlock smiled a little. "Besides," John added. "I can't even capture you with my words. You're too brilliant, too perfect to describe with just the English language. And I'd have to leave out a lot of things having to do with your magic."

Sherlock laughed quietly. "Well, that would be a bit of a shocker. They might discharge you for mental instability." Not that that would be so bad, if it didn't mean that John would probably be put away in a straightjacket somewhere.

John grinned. "I love you." He leaned in and kissed Sherlock. "I missed you so much," he whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," Sherlock replied, squeezing John's hands before letting go so he could wrap his arms around him. "I've been waiting for this for so long."

"I'm here for two weeks," John said, cupping Sherlock's cheek. "All yours for two weeks."

Sherlock swallowed, staring into John's eyes in the dark before kissing him again, heatedly. John didn't hesitate to follow the path they were heading down. They made love that night with desperation, as if it was their last time. Sherlock almost feared that it would be. They had these two weeks together, but then John would be leaving again, back into the danger of war, and there was no guarantee that he would come back in once piece. So he held onto this moment, making it last as long as he could, because it might soon become all he had.

_.~.OMWF.~._

Christmas morning found the two of them tangled with each other in bed. Sherlock woke first, grinning as he extricated himself from John. The man had sprawled over him in the middle of the night, and was sleeping like a rock. He kissed the top of John's head before getting out of the bed and attempting to make breakfast the Muggle way. Unfortunately, cooking wasn't as easy as John made it look, and his first batch of eggs wound up a blackened mess in the trash.

The smell of burning must have woken John, for soon he was padding into the kitchen in his dressing gown. "Magic exists for a reason," he teased, going over to kiss Sherlock's cheek. "But the effort is appreciated."

Sherlock sighed, but was still smiling. "I guess I'm just not cut out to be a Muggle." He waved his wand and food from the refrigerator magicked itself into breakfast.

"I don't want you to be anything but you," John said, smiling. He sat down at the table in front of the new food and started to eat.

Sherlock sent another spell at the kettle to start warming up. "Happy Christmas by the way."

"Happy Christmas," John replied.

When the tea was ready, Sherlock poured enough for both of them, and sat across from John. He then remembered what John had said yesterday. "Are you going to ask me that question now?"

"Let me finish my breakfast first," John said, smiling slyly, knowing that the suspense would be killing his boyfriend. Sherlock whined a little, but then sighed and went back to his tea. He knew John wouldn't relent.

John took his sweet time eating, and when he finally stood to put his dishes away, Sherlock levitated them out of his hands and into the sink before he could take a step. "Sherlock, you impatient git!" He grinned and shook his head. "Alright, come on. You need to get your present first."

Sherlock beamed and followed John into the living room. Under the tree was a wrapped box that he hadn't recalled seeing the night before, but he'd probably been too excited about John being home to notice. John squatted and picked it up, then handed it to Sherlock with a smile. One hand slipped into his dressing gown pocket.

With growing curiosity, Sherlock unwrapped the box and opened the lid. Inside was...a stack of papers. Sherlock's brow furrowed as he studied them. They seemed to be a legal document of some sort. "Um...Thank you, but..." He lifted them out of the box and started to leaf through, scanning the words, until he caught sight of one that made his heart stop. He looked back up at his boyfriend, eyes wide. "John..."

John was grinning so wide that his face might have split in half. He pulled his hand from his pocket and was holding a small ring box. "Well?"

Sherlock couldn't even form words. He dropped the box and lunged at John, kissing him hard.

It was a long moment before the two broke away, and John laughed as he held Sherlock close. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock said, feeling tears at the corners of his eyes. "I love you, John."

"I love you, too," John murmured. He opened the ring box and slipped the ring onto Sherlock's finger. It was a simple gold band with three tiny diamonds, and Sherlock turned his hand to admire how it sparkled in the lights of the Christmas tree. "In five months, I'll be all yours in every way."

Sherlock looked back at John, and pressed their foreheads together. Five months...After all they had been through, that shouldn't seem like such a long time, but it was. "Don't go back," he breathed.

John's smile weakened a little and he reached up a hand to cup Sherlock's face. "You know I have to."

"We can Obliviate anyone who tries to find you."

"It doesn't work that way, Sherlock," John said. He kissed him softly and stared at him for a moment. "I promise, it won't be so bad. It's just a little more, and then I'm done."

Sherlock swallowed the little lump in his throat. Maybe John was right. He'd gone this far, he could go that last little bit, especially knowing what waited for him when it was all over.


	12. Chapter 12

Guys, I am an idiot T_T I'm really sorry, I completely blanked, and only just remembered right now that I hadn't updated on Monday. And of course, it had to be the last chapter, and I'm sure everyone is waiting to see what happens and is probably mad and I feel so stupid. I just have been really busy this week because school is starting soon and I'm preparing to go move into the dorm and just...I'm sorry. Please forgive me T_T

So, this is it. The final chapter of our boys' saga. I just want to thank everyone who has faved, followed, reviewed, and enjoyed this story because it always means a lot to me when I know how much people like what I'm doing. The stories would be pointless without Johnlock fans to read them, so thank you, very much. I love you guys ^^ And now, without further ado, I give you the end of Once More With Feeling. Please enjoy it as much as you did the rest.

~SXS

**Disclaimer: **Any and all related elements from the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe are the sole property of their creators. I do not take any ownership of anything except for the ideas of the storyline.

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But it wasn't five months. It was eight - eight months, one week, three days, and two hours actually- since John left to return to service. Eight months, one week, three days, two hours, and ten seconds since Sherlock last heard from him. He could understand being away for longer than he was supposed to be, even though he was miserable with how long it had been, but why hadn't he been in touch? No emails, no calls, not even letters. He was completely in the dark.

At first he was angry, but as time kept moving, he couldn't stay that way. Deep down he knew that his greatest fears had been realised, but he never let himself fully accept it. Since wouldn't have been notified (no one knew that they were together, neither the army nor John's family), and since he really didn't want to know, he just let it all go. Retreated back into his cold shell and just focused on work. Without actually thinking about what it really meant, he'd accepted the fact that John was not coming back.

It was six months in when that happened, and so he packed up the flat and moved to a cheaper place in central London. His Auror duties kept him busy, and he'd even gone back to the wizarding world a few times to try and make peace with his family. He didn't know why he didn't just return completely, leaving the Muggle world behind. But there was always a faint sense of hope...

It was on this day, eight months, one week, three days, two hours, and one minute since they'd last seen each other, that Sherlock was in St. Bart's lab working on something for a case. Magic hadn't been able to give him the results he was looking for, so he'd decided to try a bit of Muggle science on the evidence to see what he could find. He was peering into a microscope, when he heard the door open and two sets of footsteps walking in, one walking with a cane. He didn't bother looking up.

"Hey Sherlock, there's someone I'd like you to meet," said one of them, and Sherlock recognised the voice of Mike Stamford, a Muggle he'd met through using the labs in the hospital.

"Mike, I'm quite busy at the mo-" The dark-haired man had lifted his gaze as he was speaking, but froze when he saw who was standing with the Muggle man. His emotions ran with sudden wild energy. Anger, hurt, relief, happiness, disbelief even. It was a long moment of silence while they stared at each other, until Sherlock finally swallowed the lump in his throat and said in a slightly choked voice, "Actually, there's no need to introduce us. We've already met."

Sherlock walked over and stood in front of John, meeting his eyes which had dimmed so much since they were teenagers. John looked up, with surprise that he was sure mirrored his own, and so much guilt. But this time, Sherlock just couldn't forgive him. He curled his hand into a fist and punched him in the face before gathering up his coat and scarf. "Good day, gentlemen," he said in a cold voice and hurried out of the lab.

Tears were welled in his eyes before he'd even reached the front doors, and he tried to get a cab, but there were none in the area. He swore, looking around for a place where he could Apparate in secrecy, but there were too many people around. And before he could get away, he heard the gimpy steps of John hobbling after him.

"Sherlock! Please, Sherlock, wait!" he was calling, but he didn't turn around, starting to hurry towards the street. He was about to cross when he heard a thud and the clatter of John's cane against the pavement. "Dammit..."

Something about the tone of John's voice made him stop. It was so broken. He turned around, seeing John hunched over in defeat. Part of Sherlock, well most of him, felt like he deserved it. How could he just come back like this? How could he leave him for so long with no word one what was going on? Sherlock was so angry he wanted to shout and punch John and cry. But the other part of him, that part that would always love John no matter what, made him step closer and extend a hand down to help him up.

"No, I've got it," John snapped, probably more harsh than he'd meant, but his own voice was cracking with tears. He was useless now. Sherlock probably wouldn't want him anymore, even if he hadn't been gone all this time.

Sherlock let his hand fall back to his side as John stood with some difficulty. He looked miserable, the space where Sherlock's fist had made contact already swelling up, but he tried not to let that make him forget how upset he was.

John sighed. "I just got back to the country two days ago," he said. "I went to the flat, but...When I saw that you had left, I thought you wouldn't want to hear from me."

"Well, isn't that to be expected when you turn up three and a half months after you said?" Sherlock said, thankfully succeeding in keeping his voice from catching.

"I'm sorry," John said, but even he knew that that could never make up for it. "We were on a mission. Top secret."

Sherlock laughed mirthlessly. "And I was supposed to just assume that that was why we haven't spoken since you left?"

"I wanted to call you, but they said there was no time." John looked down at the ground. "It was terrifying, Sherlock. I thought I'd never get to see you again. I almost didn't." Sherlock's eyes darted quickly to John's cane and he nodded. "I got shot. Nearly bled out. It took me two months to recover and then they gave me honourable discharge. I would have called you from the hospital, but they couldn't bring me here in my condition, so I was treated over there."

Sherlock didn't say anything. He was still furious, but that little piece of him that loved John was starting to soften him up. He was glad that John was here to be angry at.

When he didn't respond, however, John continued. "I missed you...so much, Sherlock. You were the only thing that kept me going. And it's awful, but it took nearly dying to finally realise how I've treated you. You were right. I was selfish, and now I've cost the love of my life because of it. I put you through so much. I should have never expected you to just sit by and wait for me. It wasn't fair to you. So...I understand if you won't take me back." His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, fully expecting Sherlock to walk away.

So many times, Sherlock had thought about it, about the way that any other person in a relationship like theirs would react. Many of them wouldn't have even stayed to this point, and certainly not after. But in spite of it all, in spite of all his negative feelings, he still loved John so much. The man was his other half, the only person who could ever understand him, and he didn't want to lose him. Not when he finally had the chance to keep him forever. John had promised that after his stint in the army that he wouldn't be going anywhere else, and Sherlock intended to hold him to that.

He stepped closer to John and put a hand on his shoulder. John lifted his head, staring up at him with a slightly trembling lip. He looked weathered, like if Sherlock were to reject him that he would just crumble to dust. "You're not going to go anywhere else?" the taller man asked.

John's eyes widened. "Nowhere."

"Not going to go back to school or join another branch of the armed forces?"

"I'm done with the Muggle world," he said with a sudden finality.

But the final test was for Sherlock to look into John's eyes, to find the truth. And though they were so dim and so tired, he could see his honesty. And that was all he wanted.

Sherlock finally let a small smile break on his face, and he wrapped his arms around John. He felt all the tension in the other's body release as the embrace was returned.

"Oh God, I missed you," John whispered into his shirt.

"I missed you too," Sherlock said, breathing in deeply. "I thought you were dead."

John pulled away and looked up at him with guilt. "I'm so sorry...You have no idea how miserable I feel when I think about what I've done to you. I don't deserve you."

Sherlock just smiled. "Well, you've got me. So just be grateful." He chuckled a little and John did as well.

"May I kiss you?" the now ex-soldier asked.

"You and your questions," Sherlock said as he bent to connect their lips for the first time in so long. He pulled back after a long moment and pressed his forehead to John's.

John was smiling now, and he looked down at Sherlock's hand. The ring was gone from his finger. "Did you..."

Sherlock followed John's gaze and then shook his head. He pulled a chain out from under his shirt, the ring hanging from it. "I expect a grand wedding after all this."

John laughed, relief colouring the sound. "I'll book Buckingham Palace." He kissed Sherlock again and sighed happily. "You know, I mean it. I'm through with Muggles. I should have stuck to being a wizard."

"So you want to go back to the magical world?" Sherlock asked.

"It would be nice. I miss it," John told him with a smile.

Sherlock beamed. "We could get jobs at Hogwarts. It would be just like the old days."

John grinned as he thought about it. "Eating in the Great Hall, visiting Hogsmeade on the weekends, going to Quidditch matches...I think that would be perfect."

"I agree." Sherlock closed his eyes. "I love you, so, so much."

"I love you, too," John said. He shifted a little, his leg starting to hurt. "Um...Do you mind if we sit somewhere?"

Sherlock opened his eyes again. "I have a better idea." He slipped his arm behind John's knees and picked him up, as the blonde gave a surprised squeak and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck.

"Sherlock! Don't do that without warning me first!" But John was laughing, and he leaned into Sherlock's chest.

"Apologies. But it's a long walk home," Sherlock said as he started off in the direction of his new flat.

"You're taking me home?" John asked, grinning.

"Well, it wouldn't do us any good to be in separate places, would it?" Sherlock pecked him on the cheek. "It won't be home for long, though. I'll tell my landlady that I'll be moving out and we can find ourselves a nice cottage in Hogsmeade."

John hummed and closed his eyes as he rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Perfect."

Sherlock smiled as he looked down at John. Even though the road had been long, far too long, and miserable at times, even though there had been tears and broken promises and pain, even though the odds had never been with them, it was worth it to know that finally, _finally_ it was over. They had the rest of their lives and they had each other, and no matter what they did now, it couldn't be anything but perfect.


End file.
